Part 2 of the Grief and Grace Series: The Process of Becoming
Grief doesn’t live only in the heart.
It lives in the body — in our breath, our bones, our muscles, and our nervous system.
The truth is, when we experience loss, our bodies often know it before our minds do.
We might feel it as a tightness in the chest, a lump in the throat, or a sudden heaviness that won’t lift.
For some, it’s exhaustion that lingers long after the funeral or the goodbye.
For others, it’s tension in the shoulders, a racing heart, or the inability to sleep even when we’re bone tired.
These aren’t random symptoms. They’re the language of the body trying to keep us safe.
When we lose someone or something that matters, our nervous system goes into protection mode.
The brain releases stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline, signaling danger.
Even though the “threat” is emotional, the body doesn’t know the difference — it’s reacting as if survival is at stake.
You may find yourself restless, anxious, or numb.
You might lose your appetite, or suddenly crave sugar or salt — anything that feels grounding.
You might feel too wired to rest or too tired to move.
And in the middle of it all, you wonder, What’s wrong with me?
Nothing.
Nothing is wrong with you.
Your body is doing its job — protecting, processing, remembering.
The Physical Work of Letting Go
Grief is not just emotional; it’s metabolic.
It changes your energy, your digestion, your immune response, even your posture.
It’s why your back hurts, why you forget to breathe deeply, why you wake up in the middle of the night with your heart racing.
For me, I remember during the months after Will died, my body felt like it belonged to someone else.
I would walk into the gym — a place that had always been my sanctuary — and suddenly break down mid-set.
Movement, which had always been my way of staying strong, became a place where grief found me.
But over time, I realized: it wasn’t betraying me.
It was releasing me.
Every tear, every deep exhale, every stretch, every drop of sweat — it was all part of the body’s way of finding its rhythm again.
When we move, breathe, or rest intentionally, we give our bodies permission to release what our minds can’t yet understand.
That’s why embodiment practices like walking, yoga, strength training, or even simply placing your hand over your heart and breathing slowly can be so powerful.
They tell the body, You’re safe now.
They help the nervous system settle and the heart recalibrate.
Grace in Motion
Grace doesn’t only arrive in the quiet moments of prayer or reflection.
Sometimes, grace shows up as movement.
It’s the long walk where your tears finally fall.
It’s the deep breath that makes you feel your own aliveness again.
It’s the friend who brings soup and sits beside you while you eat in silence.
It’s your body slowly remembering how to trust life again, one heartbeat at a time.
Your body is wiser than you think. It holds memory, but it also holds possibility.
It knows how to heal if you let it.
Grace moves through the body like a current — not to erase the pain, but to transform it.
Every breath is a reminder: You’re still here. You’re still becoming.
What Healing Looks Like in the Body
Healing doesn’t always look dramatic. Often, it’s subtle and slow:
The day you realize you slept through the night for the first time in months.The moment you catch yourself laughing again.The first walk you take without crying.The way your shoulders soften when you finally exhale.
These are not small things — they are signs that your nervous system is learning safety again, that your body is beginning to trust life after loss.
The Invitation
Your body remembers what you’ve been through, but it also remembers how to heal.
Listen to it.
Care for it like you would a child or a dear friend.
Feed it well. Move it gently. Let it rest.
Don’t rush it.
When you care for your body, you’re not ignoring your grief — you’re making space for grace to move through it.
Grief lives in the body, yes. But so does strength.
So does love.
So does resurrection.
You don’t have to have it all together.
You just have to keep showing up — breath by breath, step by step.
Grace will meet you there.
Reflection Questions
What signals has your body been sending you in this season of grief?How might you create small moments of movement or rest to support your healing?Where have you noticed grace showing up — not in your thoughts, but in your body?
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