Eating can feel strange, effortful, or impossible in grief - or suddenly urgent and uncontrolled.
This isn’t a failure of willpower. It’s your nervous system trying to survive.

If your sleep has fallen apart, you’re not doing grief wrong.
Your nervous system is doing exactly what it was designed to do: stay alert after loss.

Guilt often arrives disguised as responsibility.
But grief has a way of rewriting the past, convincing you that you should have known, seen, or done something differently.

Grief doesn’t just hurt.
It drains.

If you’re bone-tired no matter how much you sleep, your body isn’t failing you.
It’s grieving.

If you feel slow, forgetful, scattered, or like your thoughts are wrapped in cotton wool, you’re not losing your mind.
You’re grieving.

Anger in grief isn’t a failure of grace.
It’s energy with nowhere safe to land.

Anxiety after loss isn’t your mind spiralling for no reason.
It’s your body trying to keep you alive in a world that no longer feels safe.

Sometimes grief doesn’t hurt at all.
You feel flat. Distant. Wrapped in cotton.

This isn’t failure.
It’s protection.It All Begins Here

Shock isn’t weakness.
It’s protection.
Your nervous system slowing time so you can survive what just happened.