Oh Good Grief
Your Body Has Something to Say
If we were to step into the shoes of a scientist and focus through the lens of objectivity, grief is a human experience that none of us can ever fully dodge. Of course, grief is not just a human experience—it is an animal experience. An earthly experience. A heart-wrenching drive that connects us all. It is loss—loss of anything, really. A loved one. A job. Moving on from a chapter. Divorce. Kids growing up and moving out. A home. A persona.
And while grief is something we all experience, the way we move through it—the way we support the body through it—can change everything. Even something as simple, and as primal, as safe, intentional touch… like massage therapy… has the ability to shift how grief lives in the body.
If we continue in this observant role from above, instead of experiencing it from underneath its crushing weight, more about this phenomenon unravels before us—like a red carpet rolling out, inviting us into the light of ego-less curiosity.
The body. The body is hardwired for survival, and it takes cues from our senses for how it should react and behave to maintain that survival. For those who have experienced devastating loss, step back for just a moment and think about what grief feels like physically. Woah. Am I right? Skin-crawling, stomach-punching, throat-drowning, mind-diving sensations. And all you can think to do is release a guttural scream—or stuff it down into a muted beast who quietly awaits the moment it can impact whoever or whatever is around you.
Woof. If you know, you know. What do you think those sensations are telling your body? Telling your mind?
I’ll tell you.
Those sensations are telling your body, mind, and spirit that there is a tiger right behind you, chasing you. Your body thinks you are in survival mode, and it keeps your awareness hyper-vigilant. Your organs begin to slow down their efficiency in processing nutrients and waste, preparing in case you might be stuck without food or water. Your circulation decreases significantly, preparing for if you might be attacked and wounded. The shoulders rise and tension crawls up the neck, protecting the vulnerability of the throat and chest. Your sleep schedule changes, setting into a fog one way or another.
Your body is incredible. When it senses danger, it has your back. But it also does what you tell it to do, and prolonged periods of what we call being in the sympathetic nervous system can not only be excruciating—they can send your body into distress. Cue impacts on heart health, digestive function, mental health and more.
There are many beautiful ways to approach this human experience. To approach healing. Cultures and religions all over the world have rituals and practices that not only process grief, but also celebrate the life of who or what was lost. One of my favorite ways of healing is to look into your family’s ancestry and, from there, research their practices. If they ring true to you, try them. The Irish have rituals of opening windows, stopping clocks and covering mirrors to honor those passed on. Who says you can't explore this and make it your own by doing these practices when you are in the feels of loss? Italians have strong beliefs that grief should not be rushed, donning black on days of extreme grief. For the rest of their lives, they go back to the sites that represent their loved ones or their loss and clean up those areas.
My family is from New Mexico, and they always have little altars in their homes where they place candles and photos of those who have passed. Whenever I feel the deep sensations of grief crawling up my spine as I crave my mother, I do my best to honor the grief instead of ignoring it or pushing it away. I go home and rearrange the little shelf I have with her photo and the small trinkets of hers that I’ve kept. If I need to cry, I cry. If I want to smile and recall my favorite memory, I do.
And if I am laughing and crying, looking like a crazy person—you know what? That’s okay.
Whatever that moment becomes is bringing me back to what matters most and allowing her to live within me and through me.
We must also understand that we are pack animals. The worst punishment we can give a human being is solitary confinement. That is because we need others. It is an empowering move to seek a therapist to process with and to make time for family and friends who care. Find the people you feel safe with and melt into their comfort. You will also have the opportunity to be that comfort for someone else one day—it’s important that you take that opportunity.
Find professionals and experts in the field who feel authentic to you. Listen to their podcasts. Read their books. Practice their meditations. Connection has healing power. Community is our most precious resource for homeostasis.
And now… a healing modality you weren’t expecting?
Massage therapy.
Yes, you read that right.
The kryptonite to chronic fight-or-flight mode (aka the sympathetic nervous system) is safe space.
Woah.
Despite the fact that your therapist is licensed and certified in advanced techniques, at its root, this therapy is primal—animalistic. When an animal is healing, you find them nuzzled in a cave, curled up in the shade of a tree, or tucked into a group snuggle session. You see them moving around to get comfortable, and then all you hear is their breath and the sounds of nature around them.
Nothing is chasing them. And they are chasing nothing.
They are in a safe place, and their senses have told their body that they are safe.
So how does massage support healing through grief?
Just walking into a massage space—with someone who cares about you and who you feel safe with—creates a therapy in itself through supportive human connection. You are there to feel better and here is this person, passionate about helping you feel better. Your senses begin to shift before the massage even starts. The music reaches you with soothing tones. The scents calm the nervous system. You sink into warm, fresh sheets that hold you on the table.
Your senses begin to tell your body: you are safe. There are no tigers. You can relax.
When the massage begins, touch alone releases the hormone oxytocin. This hormone tells the body, subconscious, and spirit that you are not alone. It is the hormone of trust and connection. Within the first few minutes, dopamine is also released, creating uplifting waves of contentment.
And this is where it goes beyond just “feeling good.”
These responses lower stress hormones like cortisol. Your parasympathetic nervous system takes over, gently pushing fight-or-flight to the side.
What happens next?
Your body heals.
Circulation increases because it finally feels safe to do so. Inflammation decreases, and vitality returns with proper blood and lymph flow. Your organs resume their natural efficiency, trusting that nourishment and care are present. Muscle tension that once felt like stone begins to soften, and you may even feel physical heaviness leaving your body.
Without even trying, your subconscious begins to recognize that there is life beyond distress.
When you get off the table, you’ve received the equivalent of 8 hours of deep, restorative rest per hour. Your mind becomes clearer. Your perception softens. You return to the driver’s seat of your life—not to escape your grief, but to observe it. To honor it, instead of being crushed by it.
Healing is not a destination—especially with grief. It comes in waves, reflecting the depth of what you have loved and lost. That is why they call grief a journey.
But I can promise you this: there are ways to ride those waves. To feel what you feel while still creating safety within yourself.
We do not seek healing because of what we’ve lost.
We seek healing for what we’ve lost—and for ourselves.
Author: Kathleen Jaramillo LMT RYT RMT
