04/01/2026
My pet loss grief lives in my chest. My shoulders. My jaw. The food that tastes like nothing. The exhaustion that sleep doesnât fix.
My soulmate pet was the reason my body felt safe. My heartbeat. My breath. My sense of okay.
When they transitioned, my whole system had to figure out how to run without them.
When the overwhelm rises, hereâs what I come back to:
Both hands flat on my chest. I say their name out loud. I say it again. I breathe.
I hug myself and squeeze, right arm across my chest toward my heart, left arm over my right shoulder.
I slowly turn my head and let my eyes land on things in the room. My nervous system needs to know Iâm physically safe right now.
Cold water on my face and wrists.
I step outside and look up. I come back in when Iâm ready.
Inhale for 4. Exhale for 6. The longer exhale is what tells my body itâs okay to soften.
I hum to my beloved.
DM me if youâre in the early days, Iâd love to support you.
What does pet loss grief feel like in your body?