What grief actually feels like

You might feel numb. Like it hasn't sunk in. You might be functioning on autopilot — making calls, organising the funeral, handling paperwork — and wonder why you're not falling apart. That's shock. It's your brain protecting you. The falling apart comes later.

Or you might not be functioning at all. Can't eat. Can't sleep. Can't think. Can't stop crying. That's also normal.

Both responses are fine. Everything in between is fine. There is no correct way to do this.

Grief is physical. Your body is grieving too.

• Exhaustion — bone-deep tiredness that sleep doesn't fix
• Chest tightness — that's real. It's not a heart attack (but see a doctor if you're worried). The phrase "heartbreak" exists for a reason.
• Appetite changes — can't eat, or eating everything. Both common.
• Sleep disruption — can't fall asleep, waking at 3am, sleeping all day
• Getting sick more often — grief suppresses your immune system. Colds, infections, flare-ups of existing conditions.
• Aches and pains — headaches, back pain, stomach problems. Stress manifests physically.

Take care of yourself even if you don't feel like it. Drink water. Try to eat something. Get outside for even ten minutes.

You will forget things. Walk into rooms and forget why. Miss appointments. Put your keys in the fridge. Read a page three times without taking anything in.

This is not you losing your mind. Grief takes enormous cognitive energy. Your brain is processing something it has never processed before, and everything else gets deprioritised.

Write things down. Set alarms. Ask people to remind you. Be patient with yourself. It gets better, but it takes months.

Nobody warns you about the anger. It comes out sideways — at the doctor, at the funeral director, at your partner, at the person who died for leaving you with all this to deal with.

Anger at someone who died feels wrong. It isn't. It's one of the most common parts of grief. You can love someone and be furious at them at the same time.

If the anger is constant, or you're taking it out on people who don't deserve it, talk to someone. See support.

Grief doesn't arrive and then leave. It comes in waves. You'll have a good day — functioning, almost normal — and then a song on the radio or their handwriting on a note in a drawer will knock you sideways.

The waves don't stop, but over time they get further apart. Early on, they're relentless. After months, there might be days between them. After a year or more, they still come — but you've learned to swim.

You'll feel guilty about things you said or didn't say. Things you did or didn't do. The last conversation. Not being there at the end. Laughing at something a week after they died.

Guilt is part of grief, not evidence that you did something wrong. You did the best you could with what you knew at the time.

Grief is not a mental illness. It's the natural cost of loving someone. But sometimes it gets stuck, or too heavy to carry alone. Talk to someone if:

• You can't function — not eating, not sleeping, can't work, can't care for yourself or your children — for more than a few weeks
• You're using alcohol or drugs to cope
• You're having thoughts of harming yourself
• The intensity isn't easing at all after several months
• You just want someone to talk to who isn't family

See support for crisis lines, free counselling, and bereavement services.