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a note on my writing:
Everything I share- the ideas, the stories, my personal and professional experience walking beside animals and their people, is entirely my own. I use AI tools the way I would work with an editor or proofreader: to help organise my thoughts, tighten wording, correct grammar, and catch typos. Every piece is shaped, reviewed, and finalised by me, and reflects my lived experience.
My voice is my own, and sharing openly how I work is part of honouring the trust you place in me.
When Grief Doesn't Look Like Sadness
If you're moving through anticipatory grief with your animal companion, you're slowly noticing the changes. The grey hairs are coming in on their muzzle. The stiffness in how they move. The slowing down. All the little modifications you've made to support them. And maybe, along with all of that, you've noticed twinges of sadness. And if you are further in your journey, you notice the increase in vet visits, the meds, the daily changes and the ups and downs.
But there's something else so many of us aren't prepared for.
Anger.
Or frustration. Or irritability. Or emotional exhaustion. Or feeling reactive in ways that just don't feel like you.
This isn't about you really being mad at your animal. It's your body waking up to the reality of the situation. And because of that, it is easy to begin judging and shaming yourself during in this time.
Anger and frustration are common in anticipatory grief and caregiving and are rarely spoken about. They carry the stigma that you can’t talk about it. But these responses do not mean you are failing in your care or your animal. They do not mean you don’t love them or aren’t doing enough.
They are signs that your body and your nervous system are carrying too much.