The Truth about Grief

What are these strange feelings, body sensations, and thoughts tied to grief? Do they ever scare you?

Grief arises from many kinds of loss, not just losing a loved one. It can stem from letting go of a part of yourself, the end of relationships, losing a home, job, or dream, declining health, aging, or even preparing for death.

Grief takes many forms:

• Anticipatory grief: Feeling loss before it happens, such as after a terminal diagnosis.

• Abbreviated grief: Moving through grief quickly, often after already processing it in advance.

• Delayed grief: Feeling emotions weeks or months after the loss due to shock or distraction.

• Inhibited grief: Repressed emotions that show up as physical symptoms like anxiety or insomnia.

• Cumulative grief: Grieving multiple losses at once, making the process even more overwhelming.

• Collective grief: Shared grief over societal events like pandemics or natural disasters.

Grief is complex, deeply personal, and unique to everyone. Recognizing its forms can help us navigate and also support others through it.

I’ve personally experienced grief in different ways.

Recently, I lost a very good friend, and it made me question how  we experience grief. Having faced loss before, I thought I was somewhat prepared. But this time, the feelings, emotions, and body sensations were completely different, and it left me deeply confused.

There was a part of me that almost “enjoyed” (I know that sounds strange) the grieving process. Yet afterward, I panicked as a whirlwind of emotions surfaced. I’m usually comfortable with healthy anger; it feels like clarity. In anger, my thoughts flow freely, my body sensations are sharp, and everything feels crystal clear. But sadness, sadness was different. It was tough.

This time, sadness felt like being trapped in a dark bubble made of honey. I was trying to escape, but it was so hard, like swimming against the current. It was soft and velvety, but also slow and suffocating. Experiencing sadness this way was entirely new to me.

One grief led me to another: it wasn’t just about my friend whom I would never see again. I was grieving my youth, my lightheartedness, and coming to terms with the stark reality of death itself.

While listening to an Esther Perel podcast on grief, she said something that struck me deeply: “Grief is a fingerprint.” That simple truth helped me start to accept how I was feeling. It was as if someone said, “No matter why or how you experience it, this is your way, and it’s sacred.” Slowly, the inner judgment and criticism began to fade.

I allowed myself to feel, to be present in my body sensations instead of stuck in my mind, which was trying to analyze, rationalize, or even guilt me into discomfort. My mind kept nagging: “How can you feel all this sadness, Federica? You hadn’t even seen him in three years.” But my body was speaking its truth: headaches, stomach issues, bowel problems, sleeplessness, and nervousness.

What helped me through it? Staying with the sensations.

I closed the curtains in my bedroom, sat on the floor in complete silence, and, with my eyes open, asked myself: *What am I feeling in my body?* My stomach churned. My head spun. My arms and legs felt numb. My chest was hollow, an emptiness so deep it terrified me. I felt desperate, afraid that I’d never be able to fill this void.

But I stayed in the emptiness. I didn’t run from it. Why? Because by staying in it, I was already beginning to fill the void.

Grief often makes us feel utterly alone. In the first days after a loss, there’s an outpouring of love and support. But people don’t realize the hardest part comes later. Grief is not linear; it has stages, and these unfold uniquely for each person. The order isn’t fixed, it can shift and cycle unpredictably:

- Denial

- Anger

- Bargaining

- Depression

- Acceptance

We need more awareness around grief, for ourselves and for those who want to support someone going through it.

Grief doesn’t have a timeline. It’s a flow. People often feel isolated and misunderstood, both by others and by themselves. Why? Because grief brings confusion, fear, and above all, it amplifies our ego. Pain has a way of doing that, it’s human, and there’s nothing wrong with it.

As I said, we are all human and unique. Grief, like a fingerprint, is deeply personal.

Some people will act like nothing happened. Some will go out and get high. Some will retreat into themselves, while others may lash out and seem grumpy. Grief has a million different faces.

For those who want to support someone through grief, here’s what I can suggest: Be there. Be present. And never stop asking, “How do you feel?” It’s always better to ask one time too many than one time too few.

A common sensation for those experiencing grief is emptiness.

And what does emptiness need? Warmth, attention, care, and love.

Above all, offer no judgment and no unsolicited comments. You don’t know how it feels. You don’t know what’s happening in someone’s internal world. Every nervous system, every mind, every body is different.

The way we process grief is unique, untouchable, and sacred.

Don’t forget about the person who is grieving. Show them that you’re there, patiently, respectfully, and without rushing their timeline.

I promise you, that’s the greatest gift you can give.

If you’re experiencing grief right now, here are some simple steps to start with:

• Ask for help: Reach out to coaches, therapists, or psychologists.

• Listen to your body: Pay attention to your sensations and what they’re telling you.

• Practice self-care: Nurture yourself in ways that feel comforting and restorative.

• Reach out to others: Don’t isolate—connect with those who can support you.

Here are affirmations that might help. These are my words for you:

• “What you feel is valid.”

• “Yes, it’s confusing.”

• “I’m sorry.”

• “It’s okay if you feel like you hate the world or feel misunderstood.”

• “Yes, most people don’t understand the grieving process.”

• “You’ll have your own time to feel compassion—for now, stay present.”

• “I know guilt can arise sometimes, but you are not guilty. You did your best.”

You are not crazy. You are a human being in pain, suffering, and yes, it’s awful. But I promise you, like everything else, this too will pass.

From my heart to yours,
Fede