Emotional healing and unique biology

We often talk about health, fitness, wellness and emotional healing as if there’s one formula that works for everyone — but life often shows us that this perspective isn’t always correct.

I was reminded of that the day I lost my dog, Utah. He wasn’t just a pet; he was my family, my shadow, my safe space and an incentive to get up and move every day. Losing him was the hardest experience of my life — and it showed me just how unique our emotional needs are, and how for me, connection is vital in navigating loss and emotional recovery.

In those first days without him, my whole body felt it. The ache wasn’t just emotional — it was physical. My energy dropped, my nervous system felt wired and exhausted all at once. My appetite, which is usually strong, completely changed. It reminded me that grief doesn’t live only in the heart; it lives in the body too.

Coping through action

Doing things gave me a sense of control when my heart felt like chaos.

For me, action is a way to process emotion — if I’m moving, I’m not overthinking. It was the right coping method for me in that moment, though it might not be the same for you. Everyone’s biology and way of navigating grief is different, and that’s okay. Because for my body type, motion is medicine. Action regulates emotion. But when the doing stopped — when there was nothing left to fix or clean — the silence hit.

And that’s when the real grief began.

Some friends didn’t know what to say — and honestly, I wouldn’t have known what to say to myself either. Others said nothing at all. Some were beyond supportive and made me feel so loved. Then, people I barely knew reached out with messages of support.

Many assumed I needed space, as is often the default when someone loses a loved one. But space was the last thing I needed — there was already too much emptiness at home.

Healing by connection

What I truly needed was connection. Losing Utah had created the biggest sense of disconnection I had ever felt. For me, connection wasn’t just comforting; it was essential for processing my grief and supporting my emotional wellbeing.

If I went by societal expectations — the unspoken rule that says you should avoid talking about loss because it makes others uncomfortable — I’d be in a terrible physical and mental space. For my body type, silence creates inner stress; it disconnects me from the very thing that helps me heal.

So I kept talking about him, mostly on social media. I shared photos, memories and moments— partly to process, but mostly to stay connected, to him and to the outside world. The world went quiet while my heart was still so loud with love.

Though the grief process, I was meditating, journalling, sleeping amazingly well, exercising, and cooking meals — though still indulging in more chocolate than I normally would, knowing in my head that soon I would need to stop. Even though I was doing all the “good” things for my health, the deep need for emotional release wasn’t always met fully. Not everyone’s perspective aligned with my way of coping, and it made some people uncomfortable. My way is working though, because usually when I am anxious or stressed, it is my joints that feel the strain. But the release I’ve found through this process has had a very positive impact — my joints actually feel freer than usual.

I need physical comfort. At the end of the day, when things are quiet, holding his soft toy gives me a sense of closeness and grounding — a way for my body to feel connection even when he’s gone.

Grief lives in the body

When we lose connection — to others, to purpose, to ourselves — the body feels it, mine does anyway. Our hormones, immune system and nervous system all respond to loss. Just as movement or nutrition can support physical recovery, connection can support emotional healing — though not in the same way for everyone.

Some people need close family nearby, while others need to be completely alone.

Some need quiet and reflection.

Some need to talk, share, or be held.

There is no right or wrong way to grieve — only what’s right for you.

Grief isn't something you can fix

I’m used to fixing things — in myself, in Utah — but grief isn’t something you can fix. What it has given me instead is understanding of my unique needs for happiness. I am not there yet.

I am far from feeling whole again. At the time of writing, it’s only just over a month since I lost him, and I know I still have a long road to travel. People almost expect me to be “better” by now, asking if I am, as if a few weeks is enough time to process something so big. Grief is a topic many aren’t comfortable talking about, but it needs to be — because it’s something we all go through, in our own way, on our own timeline.

Healing isn’t about solving or rushing through it. It’s about understanding how you work — physically, mentally, and emotionally — and giving yourself what you truly need to recover and feel whole again.

Utah taught me how to live fully in the moment.

Now he’s teaching me how to be in the moment — to sit with my grief, face it, and allow it, rather than try to hide from it.

Emotional Release and Personal Expression

Everyone experiences grief differently, and you may not need the same connection or emotional exchange that I do. For me, I need to express my feelings — for my body type, holding things in creates inner tension and stress. I also need physical touch, which is why his stuffed toy helps me feel grounded at the end of the day. What matters is finding strategies and approaches that are suited to your own body, biology and way of processing.

Personalised Health: Understanding How You Work Best

If you want to experience the difference personalised health can make, it starts with understanding your own biology — how your body responds to food, exercise, stress and connection. When you work with your unique design instead of following one-size-fits-all advice, healing becomes easier, energy flows more naturally and you gain insight into navigating grief and managing stress.