Grief Lives in the Body: Learning to Carry the Unimaginable

Oct 13
3 min read

By Heather Hanson

On August 21st, 2024, my world split in two. My oldest son died suddenly and without warning. In that moment, life as I knew it was gone—and so was the woman I had been until then.

Before that day, I had walked women through loss in many forms: the loss of health, marriage, identity, or seasons of life they thought they’d have forever. I understood pain, but I had never been this deep in it. And the truth is, nothing could have prepared me. Grief is more than an emotion. It’s physical.

It’s the tightness in your chest when you wake up. An empty pit in your stomach. The ache in your muscles that no amount of stretching fixes. The fog in your mind that makes you forget the simplest things. It’s the way your body braces for impact—long after the worst has already happened.

In the early days, I thought I had two options: fall apart completely, or hold it all together and keep going. What I’ve learned is that grief invites us to do both.

The Body’s Role in Grief

We’re taught to talk about grief—to process it with words, to share memories, to “let it out” through conversation. And while there is value in that, there’s another layer we rarely discuss: grief doesn’t just live in your mind—it lives in your body.

When we experience loss, our nervous system shifts into survival mode. The body doesn’t differentiate between emotional threat and physical threat; it simply responds. For some, this means anxiety, restlessness, or hypervigilance. For others, it’s exhaustion, numbness, or withdrawal.

If we don’t allow our bodies to process grief—through breath, movement, or stillness—it can remain stored in our tissues for years, shaping how we live, connect, and feel.

What Helped Me Keep Going

I wish I could tell you there was a perfect plan I followed to “get through” my grief. The truth is, there wasn’t. But there were small, intentional actions that helped me survive—without shutting down or running away from my feelings.

Some days that meant getting out of bed when it felt impossible. Other days, it was sitting in silence and letting the tears come. I talked to God daily—sometimes with gratitude,

sometimes with anger, always with honesty. I leaned on friends and let them care for me. I nourished my body, not because I felt like it, but because I knew it needed support.

These weren’t grand gestures. They were small, consistent acts of self-compassion that created space for my body and mind to process the unthinkable.

Finding Peace in the Middle of Grief

One of the most surprising lessons of this year has been that peace and grief can coexist. You can laugh and still miss them. You can create new memories and still long for the old ones. You can rebuild while still carrying love for what’s gone.

Peace doesn’t mean forgetting. It doesn’t mean “getting over it.” It means creating moments—sometimes just seconds—where your body feels safe enough to rest, breathe, and be present.

If You’re in It Right Now

If you’re reading this and navigating your own loss, here’s what I want you to know:

You don’t need to have it all figured out. You don’t need to be “strong” every day. You don’t need to rush your healing. Start small. Choose one gentle thing you can do today to support yourself—drink water, take a walk, write a letter you’ll never send, sit outside in the sun. And please, remember this: you are not broken. You are grieving.

Your body and heart are doing their best to carry something that can never be made light. And still—you can live with peace, purpose, and even joy again. Not because the grief is gone, but because you’ve learned to carry it differently.