Grief fog, emotional whiplash, and nervous system protection

why “I was okay… and then I wasn’t” is normal

One of the most unsettling parts of grief isn’t the pain.

It’s the sudden shifts.

You wake up and feel almost steady. You answer an email. You make a plan. For a moment, life feels manageable.

And then — without warning — the floor drops out.

Your chest tightens. Tears come fast. Everything feels heavy and unreal again.

The swing is so abrupt it can make you wonder:

Was that calm fake?
Am I going backward?
Why can’t I stay in one place emotionally?

What you’re experiencing is not instability.

It’s protection.

Grief fog is not confusion — it’s a buffering system

Grief fog often feels like:

• mental slowness

• difficulty concentrating

• feeling detached or distant

• trouble tracking conversations

• a sense of unreality

This can be frightening, especially if you’ve always been clear-minded or high-functioning.

But grief fog isn’t your brain failing.

It’s your nervous system reducing input when the emotional load is too high.

When loss overwhelms the system:

• attention narrows

• sensory detail softens

• emotional distance increases

This is the brain saying,
We cannot take all of this in at once.

Fog is not avoidance.
It’s mercy.

Why calm can appear suddenly — and disappear just as fast

Many widows feel ashamed when moments of calm appear.

They wonder if it means:

• they’re “doing grief wrong”

• they’re forgetting

• they’re minimizing the loss

But calm doesn’t mean grief is gone.

It means a different part of the brain has come back online.

Grief involves rapid switching between brain systems:

• attachment and threat networks activate during pain

• the prefrontal cortex (reasoning, grounding) re-engages during calm

These shifts can happen quickly — sometimes within minutes.

So the experience of:
“I was okay… and then I wasn’t”

is not regression.

It’s the nervous system cycling between states.

This back-and-forth is how the brain prevents overwhelm.

Emotional whiplash is common — especially in early grief

In widowhood, emotional whiplash can feel extreme because every area of life has been touched by the loss.

Home.
Identity.
Future.
Security.
Belonging.

When everything is connected to the same absence, the system doesn’t get clear breaks.

So the brain alternates:

• immersion in grief

• temporary reprieve

Again and again.

This oscillation is known in grief science as dual-process coping — the natural movement between:

• loss-oriented states (pain, yearning, tears)

• restorative states (neutral focus, small moments of functioning)

You are not supposed to stay in one state.

You are supposed to move.

Why fog often lifts before the sadness does

Many widows notice something strange:

• the fog clears

• thinking sharpens

• orientation returns

But the sadness remains.

This can feel confusing.

But it makes sense physiologically.

As the stress response settles:

• oxygen and carbon dioxide balance improves

• muscle tension decreases

• the brain regains clarity

Emotion lingers longer than confusion.

So when you feel clearer but still sad, nothing has gone wrong.

Your body simply completed one part of the stress cycle.

Gentle ways to work with fog and whiplash

You don’t need to fight these states.

You can support them.

• Name what’s happening
  “This is fog.” “This is a shift.” Naming reduces fear.

• Lower expectations during fog
  This is not the time for decisions or deep conversations.

• Orient gently when clarity returns
  Notice where you are. What feels solid. Let yourself re-enter slowly.

• Trust the rhythm
  Calm does not mean forgetting. Pain does not mean failure.

No forcing.
No fixing.

Just cooperation.

What your nervous system is really doing

When grief swings between fog, pain, and brief calm, your body is not betraying you.

It’s pacing the loss.

It’s protecting you from carrying the full weight all at once.

It’s keeping you alive inside a world that no longer matches the one you knew.

A sentence to return to when the shifts feel scary

The movement between fog, pain, and calm is not instability — it is the nervous system protecting you from overwhelm as you grieve.

You are not broken because you change throughout the day.

You are surviving something that changed everything.

Closing the series

Grief is not one feeling.
It is a process moving through a body.

Waves rise and settle.
Tears release pressure.
Fog buffers what’s too much.
Calm returns — not as closure, but as breath.

None of this means the loss mattered less.

It means your body is doing what it was designed to do:
carry love, survive rupture, and bring you back to yourself — again and again.