Embodying Grief
I lost a loved one in a traumatic way a few months ago. I continue to keep the details surrounding the loss close to me and away from screens. But the experience of grief is far from private. Losing someone or something we love moves us closer to the center of universal suffering.
Before this particular loss, I was familiar with grief in many other forms. Saying goodbye to a beloved family pet was an early introduction. Later came the sting of rejection from losing once-close relationships. Eventually people I knew and loved would die, along with dreams, careers, and idealized versions of what I thought life would be.
To be alive is to love and lose.
Compared to the past, the way I hold grief looks a lot gentler.
Instead of resisting something happening to me without my consent,
I can accept and understand grief as a natural response to loss.
Our minds, hearts, and bodies are an integral part of the grieving process.
Maybe this ability to understand grief as a natural process allows me to acknowledge the physical elements at play. When I was caught in the first wave of shock upon losing someone close to me, the surprising undertow came in the form of physical changes. Why was I suddenly so sore I could barely walk? Why did I need (and still appreciate) more sleep than before? What was my body saying about my new reality?
Research tells us about the far-reaching physical symptoms of grief:
muscle soreness
increased need for sleep
shortness of breath
change in appetite
increased sensitivity to stimuli (i.e. bright lights, loud noises, temperature change)
headaches
digestive issues
brain fog
Crying is perhaps the most widely known physical expression and in the right circumstances, it’s an incredibly effective way to self-soothe. And while soft tissues are nice, so too are immune supports, early bedtimes, and nourishing meals.
When we are grieving, our minds rush to make sense of the pain. But our bodies are telling an equally important story about our need for support.
Here are some ideas for physical care to practice when we’re grieving:
move at a slower pace
cook or purchase ready-made nourishing meals in multiple servings, allowing for an easy re-heat later
rest in small slices throughout the day
wear comfortable clothes
go to bed a little earlier and stay in bed a little longer, when possible
place an ice pack on your neck, forehead, or wherever needs a cooling touch
incorporate activities to match (not stretch) your energy level
The act of changing our physicality signals to our body that we notice the pain. Even though grief may be invisible in the eyes of others, we can tend to ourselves in small ways that make a big difference.
Present within any experience of grief is an increased need for social support. We often find this by reaching out to family, friends, and trusted others who can support our pain. But sometimes we’re not sure what help we need when a loved one offers. Acknowledging what our bodies need is a great first step to acknowledge our pain and begin to invite others to support us, too.
Whatever loss you may be facing, I invite you to check in with your physical experience. Do any of the signs of grief listed above resonate with you? Are there any ideas here that could spark a shift in your approach to pain? Go gentle on yourself and reach out for support if you’re seeking a soft place to land.
Photo by Ali Abdul Rahman on Unsplash
