“Your body is not betraying you — it is grieving, too.”
You might feel it in your chest. Or your stomach. Or the heaviness in your limbs when you try to rise.
Grief lives in the body. It doesn’t just show up as sadness — it shows up as fatigue, tightness, restlessness, even forgetfulness.
And yet, we often ask our bodies to keep functioning as if nothing happened.
We push. We numb. We override.
But your body isn’t malfunctioning — it’s remembering.
It remembers the last hug. The way their voice landed in your ears. The places you sat together, laughed together, wept together.
So be gentle today. Your body is the sacred archive. It’s where love once lived in proximity, and now lives in absence.
Listen to it. Care for it. Let it grieve in its own rhythm.
You’re not weak. You’re human. And your body — tender, aching, wise — is asking for your compassion, not your criticism.
Lie down somewhere quiet. Do a slow scan from head to toe. Where does grief live in your body today? Place a hand on that area, breathe into it. Say gently: 'I see you. You are allowed to feel this.'
Take a walk today, but not for exercise. Walk as ritual. Each step: an honoring. Each breath: a prayer for your body. Let your movement be slow. Intentional. Kind.
Nina J. “I didn’t realize how much my body was carrying until I let myself rest. I used to feel guilty for being so tired. Now I see it differently — I’m healing from the inside out, one breath at a time.”
Your body is not the enemy. It’s the temple where your love still echoes.