I remember lying on the bed one morning, maybe a week or so after Angé died, and I couldn’t get up.
Not because I didn’t want to. Not because I didn’t have things to do. But because my body had completely checked out.
I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t lost in a pool of grief.
I was just… done.
There was no fuel in the tank. My limbs felt like concrete. My stomach was churning, my head was pounding, and my mouth tasted like metal.
I hadn’t done anything extreme. I was just grieving.
But it felt like I had been run over.
This is the physical side of mourning no one talks about until you’re in it.
Mourning creates grief.
Grief creates pain.
And that pain seeps into your body.
It doesn’t always shout; sometimes it whispers through tension, through fatigue, through all those little aches and signals that say:
I am not okay.
⸻
Grief Is Not Just Emotional
There’s this assumption that grief lives in the heart and the mind. That it’s emotional. That it’s about tears and loneliness and longing.
But grief is also biological. It’s physiological.
When you are grieving, your body is reacting to immense stress and trauma—whether you realize it or not.
Your body holds what your heart and mind are carrying.
This is not just poetic language. This is reality. Stress hormones spike. Your immune system becomes compromised. Your nervous system goes into a low-grade state of emergency that never quite shuts off.
And the result?
Your body starts screaming for help, even if your mind tells you you’re “coping.”
⸻
What Does Grief Do to the Body?
Here are some of the physical symptoms that can—and often do—emerge during mourning:
• Exhaustion and fatigue: You’re tired all the time, even after a full night’s sleep (if you get any).
• Muscle weakness or heaviness: Your legs feel like lead, your arms like jelly.
• Twitches and spasms: Sudden movements, nerve flutters—especially around the eyes or fingers.
• Mouth ulcers and cold sores: Stress shows up in the mouth.
• Skin rashes or dryness: Your body starts showing physical signs of distress, especially if you’ve stopped caring about hydration or skincare.
• Sweaty palms and restlessness: You feel jittery, nervous, ungrounded.
• Stomach issues: Nausea, constipation, bloating, cramping, or appetite loss—or the opposite: emotional eating and bingeing.
• Headaches: The constant tension of carrying grief in your jaw, neck, and shoulders builds up.
• Weight fluctuations: Gaining or losing weight unintentionally due to appetite changes or erratic eating habits.
• Insomnia or oversleeping: Either you can’t sleep, or you use sleep to escape. Neither is particularly helpful long term.
• High blood pressure: Silent but dangerous. Mourning can elevate your BP without you noticing.
• Increased heart rate or chest pressure: Your grief mimics anxiety attacks—or even heart attacks.
• Lowered immunity: You’re getting sick more often, catching colds or infections you’d normally shrug off.
None of these are “dramatic.”
They are not figments of imagination.
They are your body’s way of saying: This hurts. I’m struggling.
⸻
Go to the Doctor
If there’s one practical piece of advice I can offer in this chapter, it’s this:
Book a medical check-up after your person dies.
Not for them. For you.
Grief can be dangerous. There are known cases of people having stress-induced heart attacks after the death of a loved one. It’s called broken heart syndrome (or Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, if you want the medical name). And it’s real.
You don’t have to be old or already sick for grief to trigger something major in your system.
Get your blood pressure checked. Get a cholesterol test. Check your heart rate and blood sugar levels.
Talk to a GP or therapist.
Let someone professional put a stethoscope to your chest and tell you:
“You’re okay” — or — “Let’s do something now before this gets worse.”
⸻
The Diet Trap — and How to Climb Out
When you’re grieving, food is rarely neutral.
You either stop eating altogether because nothing tastes good—or you start comfort eating like a freight train. Neither is ideal.
One starves your body of the nutrients it desperately needs.
The other loads you with sugar, salt, and carbs that worsen inflammation, fatigue, and mood crashes.
Grief eating is real. Grief starvation is real.
If you’re not eating enough:
• Keep easy, ready-to-eat foods in the fridge—boiled eggs, cheese cubes, cut-up fruit.
• Sip on smoothies or soups if chewing feels like too much effort.
• Eat with someone else whenever possible—company makes food more appealing.
If you’re overeating:
• Don’t ban your comfort foods completely—just make them part of a balanced plate.
• Try the “one good thing” rule: for every snack, add one fruit or vegetable.
• Keep portion sizes small but frequent so your blood sugar stays steady.
Sample grief-friendly meals:
• Toast with scrambled eggs and spinach
• Chicken or lentil soup with a slice of whole-grain bread
• Banana, peanut butter, and yoghurt smoothie
• Rice with stir-fried vegetables and an egg on top
• Porridge with honey and blueberries
Your goal is not perfection—it’s stability.
Food is one of the simplest ways to signal to your body, I am still looking after you.
⸻
Moving Your Body — Even When You Don’t Want To
When you’re mourning, exercise can feel impossible. But you don’t need a gym membership or a fitness plan. You just need to move.
Gentle starts:
• Walk to the end of your street and back.
• Do five minutes of stretching in the morning.
• Put on a song you love and sway to it.
Why movement matters:
• It lowers stress hormones.
• It improves sleep quality.
• It boosts mood-regulating chemicals like serotonin.
• It reminds you that you still exist in a living body.
⸻
The Power of Team Activities
Grief often isolates. Moving with others—whether it’s exercise or shared chores—pulls you back into the rhythm of life.
• Join a walking group or park run (you can walk, no need to run).
• Attend a community yoga class.
• Offer to help a friend in their garden.
• Join a cooking club—preparing and eating together is powerful grief medicine.
When you move or work alongside others, you’re not just rebuilding your physical health—you’re also reconnecting with the world that still wants you in it.
⸻
Yoga, Meditation, and Massage — Calming the Grief Body
When you’re mourning, your nervous system is in a constant state of alert. Your heart races. Your breathing becomes shallow. Your shoulders creep up toward your ears and stay there for hours without you realising.
This is where yoga, meditation, and massage can become more than luxuries—they become part of your survival toolkit.
Yoga — Movement Meets Stillness
Yoga doesn’t have to mean folding yourself into impossible shapes. In grief, it’s less about flexibility and more about connection. Simple poses like Child’s Pose, Legs Up the Wall, or Cat-Cow can:
• Ease muscle tension in the back and neck.
• Improve breathing patterns disrupted by anxiety.
• Calm the nervous system so your mind slows down enough to rest.
If you can, attend a gentle or restorative yoga class. If that feels too public, search online for “yoga for grief” or “restorative yoga” and start with a ten-minute video at home.
Meditation — Sitting with the Storm
Meditation is not about stopping your thoughts. It’s about noticing them, letting them pass, and coming back to your breath. This practice can help:
• Reduce racing thoughts at night.
• Lower blood pressure and heart rate.
• Create a small pocket of stillness in an otherwise chaotic mind.
You can meditate anywhere—in a quiet room, in your car, even while walking. Start with two minutes. Breathe in slowly through your nose, hold for a moment, breathe out through your mouth. Let it be enough.
Massage — Permission to Be Held
Grief lives in the muscles. It stiffens the shoulders, knots the lower back, and clenches the jaw. A professional massage—or even a simple shoulder rub from a friend—can:
• Improve circulation.
• Release stored tension.
• Trigger the body’s natural relaxation response.
For some, massage can also meet the need for safe, comforting human touch at a time when physical closeness is painfully absent.
The key with all three practices is consistency. You won’t feel “fixed” after one session, but over time, these small acts of care can lower your physical stress load, making it easier to carry the emotional weight of grief.
⸻
Medication — A Careful Conversation
For some, grief brings symptoms that cross into clinical anxiety or depression. In these cases, medication might help—temporarily—to get your body and mind back to a manageable baseline.
But here’s the caution:
• Medication is not a cure for grief—it’s a support tool.
• Always work with a doctor, not just a friend’s recommendation.
• Avoid self-medicating with alcohol, recreational drugs, or misusing prescriptions—these can deepen depression and slow recovery.
If you do start prescribed medication, check in regularly with your healthcare provider and combine it with therapy, movement, and healthy routines.
⸻
The Grief Body Checklist
Physical Grief Checklist:
• I feel physically exhausted even after resting.
• I experience tension headaches or migraines.
• My appetite has dramatically changed (more or less than usual).
• I’ve lost/gained more than 5 kg unintentionally.
• I have stomach cramps, nausea, or indigestion.
• I can’t sleep or sleep excessively.
• I feel shaky, sweaty, or physically restless.
• I’ve developed mouth ulcers or skin rashes.
• I’ve had increased heart rate or chest pain.
• I’ve caught colds or infections more than usual.
• I’ve avoided going for a medical check-up since the death.
• I haven’t exercised or stretched in over two weeks.
• My muscles ache, and I’ve done nothing physical.
If you ticked more than five boxes, please consider making an appointment with your doctor.
If you ticked more than seven, call today.
⸻
You Don’t Have to “Push Through”
One of the biggest lies we tell ourselves—especially men, especially older people—is:
“I’ll push through this. I’m strong.”
No. That’s not strength.
That’s silence.
Real strength is saying, “I’m rebuilding, and I need a bit of help.”
Real strength is letting your sister bring you soup.
Real strength is calling your doctor and asking if they can fit you in.
Real strength is taking your blood pressure seriously.
Real strength is mourning and still respecting your physical body enough to care for it.
You don’t owe anyone stoicism.
You owe yourself rebuilding
⸻
The Mind-Body Connection
Emotional stress and physical pain are deeply intertwined.
When your grief is unexpressed—when it’s buried—it shows up somewhere else.
• That lump in your throat? It’s all the unsaid words.
• That ache in your back? It’s the weight you’re carrying.
• That pain in your chest? It’s the moment you realized they were really gone.
You’re not imagining it.
You’re not being dramatic.
You’re mourning.
And mourning is physical.
⸻
A Gentle Reminder
Take a walk. Just a short one.
Drink some water. Even if it’s just a few sips.
Stretch your shoulders. They’ve probably been tense for days.
Book that doctor’s appointment—even if it’s just to get checked.
Let someone know you’re not sleeping. Ask them to check in.
Eat one small, real meal. No shame. No judgment.
Your body needs your attention.
It’s mourning too.
And it’s trying—desperately—to help you survive.
⸻
Because of Angé
Because of Angé, I now notice when my hands shake. I listen when my body says, enough. I book the appointment. I take the walk. I drink the water. And I tell others: Grief hurts. Don’t wait for a breakdown to believe it.
