Grief in the Body and Mind
What I’ve Learned About Its Not Often Discussed Symptoms
I never really understood the full weight of grief until it settled into my own life like an unexpected storm. I’d always thought of it as something purely emotional—heartache, sadness, tears and longing. But what no one told me, what I had to learn firsthand, is that grief isn’t just emotional. It’s physical. It’s cognitive.
It seeps into every part of you, often in ways you don’t see coming.
In the weeks and months following my loss, I started noticing things that didn’t quite make sense at first. I want to share some of those symptoms here—both physical and cognitive—because if you’re going through it too, I want you to know you’re not alone, and you’re not crazy. This is grief. It’s real and it’s really hard.
The Physical Toll of Grief
Grief lives in the body. I didn’t expect that. I thought the pain would stay in my chest or behind my eyes, but it took over my whole body.
Fatigue was the first thing I noticed. Not just being “tired,” but a deep, bone-heavy exhaustion. It didn’t matter how much I slept—my body still felt like it was dragging through wet cement.
Aches and pains came next. My neck and shoulders were constantly tight, like I was carrying invisible weights. My back hurt. My head throbbed. Sometimes it felt like my whole body was in a constant low-grade state of tension, like I was bracing for a blow that had already landed.
Appetite changes were strange. Some days I couldn’t eat at all. Other days, I ate without tasting anything. I lost weight without trying, and I felt disconnected from food in a way I never had before.
Sleep problems—yes, those too. I’d either sleep far too much or find myself staring at the ceiling at 3 a.m., my mind looping through memories and what-ifs. When I did sleep, I had vivid, sometimes disturbing dreams that made me wake up even more tired.
Shortness of breath and chest tightness sometimes made me feel like I was having a panic attack. My body didn’t know the difference between danger and heartbreak—it just reacted.
The Cognitive Fog of Grief
I used to pride myself on being sharp, focused, efficient. But grief has a way of throwing all of that out the window.
Forgetfulness became a daily struggle. I’d forget appointments, leave my phone in odd places, and lose track of conversations halfway through them. It felt like my brain had too many tabs open, and none of them were loading properly.
Difficulty concentrating was huge. I’d try to read or work or even just watch a movie, and I couldn’t stick with it. My mind kept wandering, always looping back to the loss. It was like trying to tune a radio that just wouldn’t come in clearly.
Decision-making was hard—paralyzingly so. Even small choices, like what to wear or what to cook, suddenly felt overwhelming. I second-guessed everything.
Mental exhaustion was real. Thinking too hard about anything—especially things related to the loss—left me feeling drained, like my brain was physically tired.
Overwhelm and Anxiety
Grief doesn’t just make you sad—it makes everything feel too much. The simplest tasks become mountains.
Overwhelm became a constant companion. It felt like the world was too loud, too bright, too demanding. I couldn’t keep up. Simple things like grocery shopping or answering emails felt like monumental efforts. The pressure to “keep it together” was crushing, and there were days when I could hardly take a single step without feeling like I might break.
Anxiety crept in like a shadow, lingering in the back of my mind and sometimes jumping out when I least expected it. I found myself constantly on edge, my heart racing for no reason. Even when things were calm, my body felt like it was preparing for something terrible to happen. I’d get stuck in loops of worrying about the future—what else might go wrong, what else I might lose—and it was exhausting.
Restlessness was another symptom. I could never quite settle down. My mind would race, and my body would follow. I had a hard time sitting still, finding a sense of peace, or even just allowing myself a moment of calm.
Depression in the Wake of Grief
It’s hard to talk about depression without feeling like it’s a taboo subject. But grief often carries with it a deep, heavy sadness that sinks into everything.
Feelings of hopelessness would wash over me unexpectedly. The future seemed distant and uncertain, and the idea of ever being truly happy again felt impossible. I would think about things I used to look forward to and feel empty. My motivation was gone. Even things I once loved seemed pointless or draining.
Isolation also took hold. I wanted to be alone, yet I also felt like I was slipping away from the people I cared about. It was a strange mix of wanting connection but being too tired, too sad, or too anxious to reach out. Conversations felt shallow, and I didn’t know how to explain what I was going through.
Guilt and self-blame would sometimes accompany the sadness. I’d ask myself over and over, “What could I have done differently?” or “Was there more I could’ve given?” Even though I knew logically that it wasn’t my fault, the emotional side of grief can sometimes convince you otherwise.
Grief Is a Full-Body Experience
If you’re reading this and recognizing yourself in these symptoms, I want you to take a deep breath and know: you’re not broken. You’re grieving. And grief is a full-body experience.
I’m still learning how to move through it, how to live alongside it. Some days are easier than others. Some days, the fog lifts just enough for me to remember who I was before. Other days, I’m just surviving. And that’s okay too.
There’s no timeline for healing, and there’s no “right” way to grieve. But understanding that what I was feeling wasn’t just “in my head” gave me a little peace. It helped me be gentler with myself. I hope it can do the same for you.
You’re not alone in this. Not even a little bit. Though nothing can fix your grief of take away the pain of your loss, there are things that can help. For more information on grief counselling options, please contact us.
