23/10/2025
People think it’s all in your head. It’s not.
Loss flips the switches in your nervous system and your body takes the hit.
Stress? Yeah—fight-or-flight that won’t shut off.
Your heart kicks up for no reason.
Palms sweat. Chest gets tight. Breathing goes shallow even when you’re sitting still.
You jump at sounds you never noticed before. Doors closing. Phones buzzing. Your whole system on alert.
Anxiety? It’s not “just in your mind.”
Jaw clenches till your teeth hurt. TMJ flares.
Neck and shoulders lock up like you slept on cement.
Random dizziness. That weird buzzing in your ears.
Hands shake trying to hold a mug. Knee bouncing under the table.
Skin breaks out. Scalp gets tender.
You can’t stand bright lights or noise for long.
Fatigue? Not the kind a nap fixes.
You sleep and wake up wiped out.
Dream hard and wake sore, like you ran all night.
You forget simple words mid-sentence. Walk into rooms and can’t remember why.
Time gets weird—hours vanish doing nothing because your brain is busy keeping you upright.
Your gut gets in on it too.
Stomach flips for no clear reason.
Nausea out of nowhere. Acid burning.
Bathroom issues—constipation one week, the opposite the next.
Food tastes off. You crave salt or sugar or nothing at all.
Headaches that hang on for days.
Migraines with the aura that makes you see sparks.
Shoulder blades feel like they’re carrying a backpack that isn’t there.
Cold hands. Tingling feet.
Random chills even when the room is warm.
Your immune system drops its guard.
You catch every cold going around.
Healing takes longer—cuts, bruises, anything.
Hormones get messy. Cycles shift. Sleep cycles, too.
None of this means you’re broken.
It means your body logged the loss and is still trying to keep you safe.
So here’s the part no one says out loud:
If your symptoms look like stress, treat the stress.
If they look like anxiety, treat the anxiety.
If they look like fatigue, honor the fatigue.
You don’t have to prove it’s “grief enough” to listen to your body.
Water. Real food. Short walks. Stretch the jaw you’ve been clenching.
Hands on your chest—slow the breath down.
Block the calendar when you can. Sit in the quiet when you need to.
Call the doctor if you’re worried. Use meds if they help.
This is not weakness. It’s maintenance.
You’re not lazy. You’re not making it up.
You’re just grieving.
