Grief: The Silent Earthquake
When Your Body Remembers the Loss
The human experience is a tapestry woven with joy, love, challenge, and, inevitably, loss. We are born, we live, and we grieve. Yet, for something so universal, grief remains one of the most isolating and misunderstood journeys we undertake. It’s not linear. It doesn't check your calendar. It doesn’t follow a predictable healing protocol or respect how much progress you think you've made. It arrives in waves—sometimes crashing, sometimes creeping—and often, it’s invisible to the outside world.
Monday June 23rd marked three years since I lost my dad. And for weeks, I’ve felt it building. An undercurrent of anxiety, a familiar pit in my stomach, the lingering shadow of a date I dread. I knew it was coming, and every year, I brace myself, trying to outsmart the pain, to evolve beyond this one specific day. I tell myself I'm growing, I'm learning, I'm stronger. But thats not how this works.
Despite my anticipation, I didn’t expect to wake up that day feeling like I’d been hit by a train. Not metaphorically—physically. My whole body ached. A profound exhaustion weighed me down. The emotional static making everything feel slightly off. It's frustrating, infuriating even, that this date, the anniversary of the worst day of my life, continues to feel so utterly sh*tty.
This is grief. And yet… we rarely talk about this part. The part where your mind can rationalize and grow, but your body still gets blindsided. The part where even when you know it's coming, you're still not prepared for the visceral impact.
The Invisibility of Grief: Beyond Sadness and Tears
Grief is so often painted as sadness. Crying. Missing someone. Maybe a black outfit and a thoughtful caption. But those are only fragments of a far more complex, whole-body experience.
The deeper, unspoken side of grief includes:
Chronic exhaustion: A bone-deep weariness that sleep doesn't touch.
Unexplained physical aches and pains: Feeling like you've been "hit by a truck" or having persistent tension.
Digestive disturbances: Nausea, stomach upset, changes in appetite.
Brain fog: Difficulty concentrating, memory lapses, feeling disoriented.
Heightened anxiety or unexpected panic attacks.
Mood swings: From irritability to profound sadness, often without a clear trigger.
Anniversary reactions: A cluster of physical and emotional symptoms that arise around the date of a loss, often subconsciously.
Guilt, confusion, and even anger: Especially that simmering anger at "why him? why me? why this date?" and the expectation from others (or yourself) to be “over it.”
The Body Keeps the Score: The Science of Stored Grief
This isn't just "all in your head." Your body is a profound record-keeper, and it remembers trauma, stress, and profound loss on a cellular level. Here’s a glimpse into the science:
The Nervous System Overdrive: When you experience a significant loss, your sympathetic nervous system (our "fight, flight, or freeze" response) often goes into overdrive. This is a primal protective mechanism. While necessary in acute danger, prolonged activation can deplete your body. Your heart rate, blood pressure, and muscle tension remain elevated, leading to chronic fatigue and physical discomfort.
Hormonal Chaos: The sustained stress response floods your system with cortisol and adrenaline. While these hormones are essential for survival, chronic elevation can suppress your immune system, disrupt sleep cycles, contribute to inflammation, and imbalance other crucial hormones, impacting everything from your metabolism to your mood. This systemic inflammation can manifest as widespread body aches, a common complaint for grievers.
Brain Re-wiring: Grief impacts key areas of the brain. The amygdala (responsible for fear and emotion) can become hyperactive, leading to heightened anxiety. The hippocampus (memory formation) and prefrontal cortex (executive function, decision-making) can be affected, contributing to brain fog and difficulty concentrating. This is why "grief brain" is a real phenomenon.
Cellular Memory and Anniversaries: Think of it like your body's internal clock. While your conscious mind might be trying to move forward, your autonomic nervous system can pick up on subtle cues—changes in weather, certain smells, or simply the time of year—triggering a physiological response linked to the original traumatic event. This explains the "hit by a train" feeling on anniversaries; it's your body reacting to a deep-seated memory of trauma and stress. Your cells are essentially reliving a profound shock, regardless of how much mental processing you've done.
If you’ve experienced these invisible symptoms, you are not alone. If you’ve never heard this discussed, that’s precisely the problem we need to fix. This is a part of grief that everyone thinks they won't have to face until they do, and even though it's something many go through, nobody truly talks about it.
A New Life After Loss: Navigating the Uncharted Territory
The hard truth is: life doesn’t go back to "normal" after losing someone you love. You don't "get over it." Instead, you start a new life. You're forced to rebuild with a piece of your heart missing, and there’s no widely distributed manual for how to do it.
But after three years walking this path, and through my work with Solace H.H.E.A.R.T., I’ve gathered some insights and tools that can help illuminate this new terrain.
When Grief Hits Hard, Especially on Anniversaries:
Validate Your Experience: The very first step is to acknowledge that what you're feeling is real and valid. It's not "just sadness"; it's a profound, whole-body response to an enormous loss. Give yourself permission to feel it all, including the anger and frustration that it's still happening.
Practice Radical Self-Compassion: Now is not the time for self-criticism or guilt for "not being over it." Treat yourself with the same kindness and empathy you would offer a loved one in immense pain.
Listen to Your Body's Wisdom: Your body is speaking to you.
Rest: Prioritize sleep and allow for naps. Your nervous system is working overtime.
Nourish: Opt for gentle, easily digestible, nutrient-dense foods. Hydrate deeply with clean, vital water (which you know we’re passionate about at Solace H.H.E.A.R.T.).
Move Gently: Avoid intense workouts. Instead, try gentle stretching, slow walks in nature, or restorative yoga.
Manage Expectations (Yours & Others'): Let go of the idea that you "should" be past this or that this day "should" be easier. It's okay to not be okay. Communicate your needs (or lack thereof) to loved ones. It's okay to say no to social engagements.
Plan with Intention (If You Can): Anticipate anniversary dates. You don't have to face them unprepared.
Create a Ritual: Light a candle, play their favorite song, look at old photos, write a letter, visit a special place.
Seek Connection: Spend time with someone who understood your relationship with the deceased, or who is also grieving.
Allow for Quiet: Sometimes, the best plan is no plan at all, just space to simply be.
Seek Support, Not Isolation: Silence breeds isolation.
Talk About It: Share your feelings with a trusted friend, family member, or partner.
Professional Help: Don't hesitate to seek out a grief counselor, therapist, or somatic experiencing practitioner. They can provide tools and a safe space to process complex emotions and body sensations.
Support Groups: Connecting with others who share similar experiences can be profoundly validating and reduce feelings of loneliness.
Grounding Techniques: When anxiety or overwhelming emotions strike, try simple grounding exercises:
Deep Breathing: Inhale slowly, hold, exhale slowly.
5-4-3-2-1 Method: Identify 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste.
Sensory Input: Hold an ice cube, splash cold water on your face, listen to calming music.
Let’s Start the Conversation
Now, three years after losing my dad, I’m choosing to share this—not for pity, but in honor of him, and for all of us silently navigating the terrain of loss. I share this because I know what it feels like to be in the room but feel like a ghost of yourself. To smile through the ache. To wake up on a seemingly normal day, unaware that your body remembers what your mind tried to suppress.
Grief has changed me—not just in how I show up for others, but in how I listen to myself. It’s taught me to stop apologizing for still feeling. To stop rushing the process. And to trust that love this deep doesn’t just disappear. It transforms. It becomes part of you.
So if you've lost someone, I see you.
If you’re grieving quietly—doing your best to function while carrying a weight no one else can see—I hear you.
If you’ve felt “off” lately and didn’t know why—maybe this brings you clarity.
I’m holding space for you today. Truly. And I invite you to hold space for someone else too—because chances are, they’re grieving something quietly, just like you.
Let’s normalize the whole, messy, beautiful, painful truth of grief. Let’s stop expecting ourselves—or others—to be “over it” on any timeline. Let’s replace judgment with compassion, silence with connection, and loneliness with shared humanity.
Healing isn’t a finish line. It’s a relationship we build with our pain over time. And through it, we remember, we honor, and we continue to love—in new ways, through new seasons.
This is me, still loving my dad. Still learning how to live in each present moment. Still healing.
🖤
—Alexandra Rae
Founder, Solace H.H.E.A.R.T.
