Bargaining took me by surprise; she arrived quietly, slipping through the cracks of my window, appearing next to me without a word. Like an old friend, she sat beside me in my cold, darkened room. Bargaining had seemed to be the first of my many visitors to notice my fractured heart.
I was still wrapped in disbelief, the kind that hangs like heavy mist in the air, thick enough to swallow me whole. The fog of grief seemed to be getting more unbearable by the minute. Surprisingly, Bargaining was not a loud visitor. She spoke softly, gently, as though trying not to disturb the stillness in my ocean of grief. She stroked my sorrow, softly and endlessly, urging me to believe that the pieces of the past could still be rearranged, if only I had made the right choice, spoken the right words, taken the right action. Bargaining wore no mask of anger, nor did she scream with the sharp edge of regret. No, Bargaining was patient, too patient. She would whisper in my ear, “What if you had done more? What if you had seen the signs? What if you could have helped her?”
These "What ifs" were silent killers, creeping in like thieves in the night. They are the quiet questions that curl around the heart and squeeze, over and over again, until there’s nothing left but raw emptiness. These are the ghosts that haunt the mind, soft and persistent, gnawing at the edges of what is left. They would wrap around every thought, distorting the truth, transforming the grief into something else entirely. Bargaining was a crushing weight that suffocated, leaving no space for healing. The "What ifs" twisted into guilt, an invisible chain that tightened around my soul. It didn't matter that there was nothing more to be done, that the truth is far more complex than any hypothetical could capture. The "What ifs" distort everything.
When we encounter grief, we often feel hopeless and overwhelmed. Bargaining is a common defense mechanism or pain management strategy used to cope with loss. In the bargaining stage, individuals attempt to negotiate or make compromises with themselves, others, or higher powers.
Bargaining would arrive in the middle of the night, when my thoughts were most vulnerable. At night, she wouldn’t speak in whispers, but in the sharp tones of guilt, carving her venomous marks into my bleeding heart. Bargaining would keep me awake to tell me stories of what could have been, offering trade-offs, fragile hopes like paper promises.
If only I had been there. . . If only I could turn back time . . .
Bargaining held out these delicate barters, pieces of a life that no longer exists, and asked, "What would you do to have her back?" The guilt Bargaining was feeding me on a silver spoon would pick at my bones like an insatiable vulture. But deep down, I knew that this path would ultimately lead nowhere, that these deals weren’t meant to be struck. Not by me. Still, Bargaining lingers, tapping gently on my chest, suggesting the impossible. Leaving me trapped in my own mind full of “What ifs.”
Bargaining is often irrational. People may try to undo or postpone the inevitable, often expressing “what if” and “if only” scenarios. This can manifest as making promises to be a better person, helping others more, or making personal sacrifices.
Bargaining does not leave when it’s told to go. She lingered like a soft ache, a persistent weight on the edge of my consciousness. Bargaining would curl into my bones and settle in the quiet spaces where the grief had not yet filled the silence. She wasn’t cruel, not in her voice, but in her insistence. Bargaining wore a face I recognized, the face of all the things I wish I could have said to my best friend in the time before. If I had just noticed, if I had said something more, something different, it repeats, over and over again, a loop that frays the edges of my mind. I would tell myself it’s all a lie, that the truth is much more complicated than that, but Bargaining knew how to weave one hell of a story.
Bargaining can be a way to regain a sense of control and potentially alleviate the intense emotions associated with grief. It allows for individuals to delay their sadness and pain. Bargaining provides time for the mind to adjust to the loss and allows the person to gain some semblance of control, even if the situation is beyond their control.
When Bargaining backed me into a corner, she would hold up her mirror, showing me the version of myself that I could have been, a version that might have had the answers, the strength to change things. And yet, as much as I tried to argue, to push away the weight of the thought, Bargaining was insistent. She was relentless in her comfort of doubt, holding me close in the darkness, a reminder that grief doesn’t need to be loud to be fierce.
Bargaining doesn’t seek to heal; rather, she chained me to the illusion of choice and change. She knew I would never find what I sought out, yet she remained by my side, over my shoulder, in the corners of my mind. As I wrestled with the weight of her promises, I was left only more broken, but always, always, wondering what might have been.