💔 Why the Death of a Pet (or the Loss of Any Love) Feels Like You’re Losing Your Mind 🤯

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By Rev Kaleel Sakakeeny

Director, Animal Talks (animaltalksinc.com). a Boston, MA, and Capetown, South Africa based-nonprofit loss and bereavement counseling service

You are losing your mind—the mind you had when you and your beloved pet shared life together.

Any deep loss, whether it's a job, pet, partner, friendship, or health, scrambles the brain’s landscape like no other event, except perhaps a near-death experience. It’s often what deep grief feels like.

And it’s unsurprising.

Your reality, the life you shared with the being you loved with all your heart, is no more. It’s shattered. Your life was built around that deeply loving relationship. How you spoke, your actions, your schedules, your mealtimes, the litter box changes, dog walks, phone calls, travel, sleeping together, laughing, sharing—all the daily activities you did over the years are gone. Pity the poor mind. The neurons of your body and brain have come undone.

This connection is no different from the one partners or spouses share. The roles are embedded in our psychophysical complex, and when the connection is severed by death, something like madness ensues. There is deep confusion. A void. Anger. Disorientation. Uncontrollable tears. No wonder you feel like you’re going crazy. But it’s deep grief playing havoc with you! The panic of the loss, the loss of your familiar, embedded reality, can feel like you’ve lost your mind. And in a real way, you have.

When an arm or leg is amputated, the brain and body act as though the limb is still there. We know the reality is that the limb is gone, but our minds refuse to accept this and act as though it were still there. We try to use it. Move it. Reach with it. We behave like the arm or leg is still with us. But they aren’t. Loss is like that. Reconciling the two realities can be literally maddening. Psychology Today has a wonderful article on this called How the Brain Rewires When We Grieve.

How long does it take for the brain and neurological pathways to accept that the world you knew is no more? Or to accept that the beloved is no more when we still feel they are very much with us? “You’re there as you always were,” the poor mind cries out. “I’m doing what I have been told to do, trained to do, what gives me meaning—to peel an orange, run a race, hold someone's hand, talk with my beloved.” But the limb is gone—the loved one is gone—and the mind cannot accept this new reality, the loss of the old, familiar world it has known for years.

The end of a loving relationship to anything or anyone is an amputation. We have lived this loving, connected relationship forever, it seems. But the mind keeps looking. Hoping. Gets dressed for the job we no longer have. Calls the friend that’s departed. Feeds the dog or cat that’s gone. It keeps doing what it has been doing, what has given life meaning.

Pity the heart too, although the heart is a deeper organ with a mysterious capacity for regeneration. The mind isn’t. The heart knows things the mind never will, and so the conflict is set up.

The mind’s world keeps doing what it has been doing, what it knows to do. But the heart is broken. It gets it—which is why we at Animal Talks believe loss and grief are not so much mental health issues as much as they are issues of the heart and spirit.

After loss, we are like a car in neutral with its engine racing. The motor runs: the car goes nowhere.

And so, we do go crazy with the conflict, with the inability to reconcile the new and old reality.

We are hardwired to connect, and when that connection is ruptured, the familiar, lifelong neural images, pathways, and responses continue, and we feel like we’re going crazy. When will it get better? When will the craziness end? Time is required. Living and layering the mind with new life experiences and connections is essential for a new reality to take hold in our minds, bodies, and hearts. Our neural existence must remap and reshape.

How long does grief last? As David Kessler teaches, “How long will the being you love be dead?” Grief lasts that long.

So how do we gently help the brain accept the new reality? In The Grieving Brain by Mary Frances O’Connor, Dr. O’Connor gives us valuable insights into how our brain must come to terms with where our loved ones went and how to imagine a future without them.

How? By living—until we come alive. New memories, new neural patterns, new life experiences—like the irritating sand particle in the oyster becomes a pearl.

We recognize the love we lost and honor it. We never, ever try to move on from it. We accept the death, the loss, and allow ourselves to go crazy with the pain and grief. But we take grief breaks. Get into nature. Find ways of remembering and memorializing our lost beloved.

Slowly, slowly, the new life overlays the old, new neurons fire and form. A new reality slowly emerges. We will never, ever be the same. The love we have for our departed beloved is forever. So is the grief. But it’s softer. The more actively we grieve, the easier it is to move forward and live with hope.

For help with pet loss grief-or any kind of loss and grief (job, friendship, partner, health, home), please reach out to me at Kaleel@animaltalksinc.com

And visit our site for helpful ways to heal animaltalksinc.com