Counterfactual Thinking: How Bargaining Shapes Our Grief

Field Notes

Bargaining: The Past Rewritten to Avoid the Pain

Standing on the Ledge — Chapter 2

Bargaining is what my mind does when reality lands and I don’t want to feel the full impact yet. It’s the rewriting of the past to avoid the pain. It’s the part of grief that tries to negotiate with time, like time is a person who can be convinced.

In the classic grief model, bargaining shows up right there in the sequence—often voiced as deals, “what if,” and “if only.”1 But here’s the trick: in non-death losses, bargaining doesn’t always sound like bargaining. It sounds like analysis. It sounds responsible. It sounds like I’m “learning.” Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s just pain wearing a suit.

The tell is the language. “If only I had…” “If only I’d said…” “If only I’d seen it sooner…” That’s not problem-solving. That’s my mind replaying the tape looking for the exact frame where everything went wrong. Cleveland Clinic describes bargaining after a breakup as regret and retrospection—those exact “if only” loops.2

Psychology has a name for this whole mechanism: counterfactual thinking—imagining alternatives to the past. It’s common, it’s human, and it has a function. Counterfactuals can help us learn and adjust future behavior—when they stay tethered to reality and lead to a next step.3 But when I’m raw, counterfactuals don’t always lead to learning. They lead to rumination: the same question asked a hundred times, as if repetition will produce a different answer.

So in this series, I’m naming it what it is: a post-mortem. Not for punishment. For pattern recognition. A way to stop pretending the disaster was random, without turning myself into the villain of my own story.

Because the truth is: “What should I have done?” can be a trap. It implies the past was fully controllable, that I had perfect information, perfect energy, perfect timing. It lets me believe I could have prevented everything—because the alternative is harder: accepting that some outcomes were shaped by conditions bigger than a single decision.

This is where the sociological lens matters. Mills’ whole point in “The Promise” is that private trouble isn’t always just private—our biographies run inside history, institutions, incentives, and structures.4 When I only ask “What did I do wrong?” I collapse the whole world into my personal failure. I shrink the problem until it fits inside blame. That might feel like control, but it’s a distortion.

Durkheim gives a word for the wider disorientation that follows collapse: anomie—instability when standards and expectations break down and the old rules stop regulating life the way they used to.5 In an anomic moment, it’s not just that I’m hurting; it’s that the map is wrong. Bargaining is what I do when I’m trying to redraw the map with yesterday’s ink.

So what helps? Better questions. Questions that don’t deny responsibility, but don’t turn responsibility into self-torture either.

Not: “What should I have done?”
But: “What conditions made this outcome likely?”

Not: “Where did I fail?”
But: “What patterns did I miss because I was overloaded, loyal, hopeful, exhausted, or operating with incomplete information?”

Not: “How do I fix the past?”
But: “What boundary prevents a repeat?”

That’s where the post-mortem becomes useful instead of corrosive: it produces outputs. It produces a constraint. It produces a new rule. It produces a next move.

Covey’s framing helps me keep it clean: focus on what I can control and influence, instead of spiraling over what I can’t.6 Bargaining lives in the “can’t.” It tries to control time, other people, old outcomes. Pattern recognition lives in the “can.” It changes what I allow, what I choose, what I do next.

And when I’m doing it right, the post-mortem ends. It doesn’t become my daily ritual. It doesn’t become a shrine. It runs, it extracts the lesson, and it stops.

Because I don’t need to keep bleeding to prove I cared. I just need to learn what the cut was telling me.

One line I am keeping.
One boundary I am setting.
One step for tomorrow.

Godspeed.

Sources

  1. Cleveland Clinic, “Understanding the Five Stages of Grief.” https://health.clevelandclinic.org/5-stages-of-grief
  2. Cleveland Clinic, “Understanding the 5 Stages of Grief After a Breakup” (Bargaining = regret/‘if only’). https://health.clevelandclinic.org/stages-of-grief-breakup
  3. Epstude, K. & Roese, N. J., “The Functional Theory of Counterfactual Thinking.” (2008) Personality and Social Psychology Review (PMC full text). https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC2408534/
  4. Mills, C. Wright, “The Promise,” The Sociological Imagination (1959) (Chapter 1 PDF). https://bpb-us-e2.wpmucdn.com/sites/middlebury.edu/dist/5/2398/files/2013/02/The-Promise.pdf
  5. Encyclopaedia Britannica, “Anomie.” https://www.britannica.com/topic/anomie
  6. FranklinCovey, “Habit 1: Be Proactive.” https://www.franklincovey.com/courses/the-7-habits/habit-1/
  7. Stroebe, M. & Schut, H., “The dual process model of coping with bereavement.” (1999) Death Studies (PubMed record). https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/10848151/

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Lugh Sulian Standing on the Ledge · Rebuilding from the Rubble Lugh Sulian is a working name for a working moment. This profile exists to hold Standing on the Ledge: Rebuilding from the Rubble—an ongoing, real-time record of what happens after collapse, when old rules stop functioning and new ones haven’t yet earned trust. This is not myth reenactment. Not spiritual bypass. Not curated healing. It’s a field journal from the threshold. The name Lugh points toward skill, clarity, and responsibility carried with awareness. Sulian gestures toward sight—what can be seen when illusion drops away and pretending becomes too expensive. Together, they frame the posture of this work: to look clearly, act deliberately, and refuse to rebuild what already failed. Through short-form video, spoken reflection, and long-form writing, this project explores: Collapse without spectacle Responsibility without authority Burnout as a systems problem, not a personal flaw Pagan cycles as lived practice, not aesthetic Small fires instead of grand rebuilds This space is intentionally unfinished. It documents: Standing still without freezing Moving forward without rushing Learning from rubble instead of hiding it Unplugged-Pagan.com serves as the grounding—seasonal awareness, ritual stripped of performance, and meaning built from experience rather than doctrine. Standing on the Ledge is one expression of that grounding, focused on the human cost of broken systems and the slow work of rebuilding integrity. This is not a teaching platform. It’s a shared watchpost. If you’re here, you’re likely between versions of yourself—tired, alert, uncertain, and still standing. You don’t need answers yet. You need honesty, boundaries, and permission to move at the speed of truth. No conclusions offered. No certainty promised. Still on the ledge. Still watching. Still working the rubble. Godspeed. Optional Short Versions (for profile headers or bios) Short bio (Facebook / site header): Threshold work. Pagan-rooted, process-driven. Documenting collapse, clarity, and the refusal to rebuild what failed.

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