Grief, by its very nature, is disorienting. It doesn’t arrive in predictable stages or follow a clear timeline. Instead, it moves in waves—sometimes gently, sometimes with overwhelming force. For many, grief brings more than sorrow; it also brings anxiety and panic, often showing up in sudden, terrifying episodes. These panic attacks may feel like being swept up in a storm—heart racing, breath quickening, chest tightening—leaving a person feeling utterly powerless in their own body. It’s not uncommon to feel as if you’re losing control or even your sense of self. While frightening, this experience is a natural response to the emotional upheaval that comes with loss.
Panic attacks in grief are the nervous system’s way of reacting to trauma. The body, unable to process the intensity of the loss through thoughts alone, expresses it physiologically. This response can be managed, though it often requires time, care, and the willingness to explore coping strategies that work on both the emotional and physical levels. One such approach is conscious, deep breathing. When the body enters a state of panic, the breath becomes shallow and rapid, reinforcing the feeling of danger. Slowing the breath—breathing deeply and intentionally—can help send a message of safety to the brain, calming the heart and easing the rush of fear.
Equally powerful are grounding techniques that help pull attention away from spiraling thoughts and bring awareness back to the present moment. Focusing on the immediate environment—what can be seen, heard, or touched—can help interrupt the mental loop that fuels panic. It creates a tether to reality when the mind is spinning. Therapy can also be a lifeline. A professional trained in grief and anxiety offers more than just a listening ear; they provide tools to reframe thinking, process the pain at a manageable pace, and guide healing from a place of understanding and structure. Therapy often becomes the bridge between feeling stuck in grief and learning how to live with it in a way that doesn’t feel all-consuming.
Alongside therapy, establishing a sense of routine is another critical part of healing. After a loss, life often feels fragmented. Routines help reintroduce predictability when everything else feels uncertain. Even the simplest habits—going for a walk in the morning, cooking dinner at the same time each evening, setting aside quiet time for reading—can provide structure that gently supports emotional balance. These acts might feel small in the moment, but they build a rhythm, helping the mind and body regain a sense of safety in the day-to-day.
One surprisingly profound form of support can come from animals. Welcoming a pet into one’s life during a period of grief can offer more than just companionship—it offers connection, routine, and moments of unfiltered joy. Pets live in the present. They don’t expect explanations, they don’t judge, and their presence can provide emotional grounding when human interaction feels too overwhelming. Caring for a pet—feeding, walking, nurturing—can instill a sense of purpose that may feel lost in the aftermath of grief. Studies have shown that being around animals can reduce stress hormones, calm the nervous system, and ease feelings of loneliness. In some cases, a pet becomes a lifeline, gently pulling someone back toward life when it feels distant or unreachable.
It’s not uncommon to attempt to outrun grief by throwing oneself into work or constant activity. Keeping busy can offer a temporary escape—it distracts from the emotional weight, provides a sense of accomplishment, and avoids the silence where grief speaks the loudest. But distraction is only a pause, not a cure. Sooner or later, the pain still asks to be acknowledged. Recognizing this pattern without shame is important. It doesn’t mean the pain is being ignored entirely; it just means the heart is choosing survival in the only way it knows how at that moment. When one is ready, turning inward—whether through therapy, creative expression, or quiet reflection—becomes essential to move from surviving to healing.
A major challenge in grief is the loss of identity. Many people describe feeling like a ghost of who they once were—someone who used to feel alive, passionate, joyful, now dulled by sorrow. Rebuilding that identity is one of the most delicate parts of the process. It takes time, and it often starts with the smallest victories: a day without panic, the courage to meet a friend for coffee, the strength to get out of bed on a difficult morning. These acts may seem insignificant, but in the context of grief, they are deeply meaningful. They are reminders that there is still something within—resilient, enduring, and capable of healing.
Writing about these experiences, speaking them aloud, or even quietly acknowledging them to oneself can be an act of healing in itself. It allows the pain to exist in the open, where it can breathe, and where others might find comfort in knowing they are not alone. Because the truth is, no one walks the path of grief exactly the same way, but many walk similar roads. And in that shared journey, there is solace.
There is no finish line in grief. It doesn’t simply disappear one day. But with time, support, and care, it becomes lighter. It changes shape. The sharp edges begin to dull, and in their place, room is made for hope. Healing doesn’t mean forgetting. It means learning how to carry the love and the pain together—and still move forward.
Even when progress feels slow, every small step—every calm breath, every night of restful sleep, every moment of genuine laughter—is a sign that healing is underway. And no matter how dark things feel now, there will be days ahead that feel gentler. The heart knows how to mend. Sometimes, it just needs patience, presence, and the courage to begin again.