Where did my mind go? Grief brain fog explained

“For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.” Psalm 103:14 (ESV)

You have driven to the grocery store a thousand times. Today you missed the turn.

You read the same paragraph four times and still could not say what it was about. You walked into the bedroom and stood there, sure you came for something. The pharmacist asked for your birth date and, for one awful second, it simply was not there.

Maybe you laughed it off. Maybe you went home and quietly wondered if something is seriously wrong with you.

If your mind has felt wrapped in cotton since your loved one died, I want you to hear this first. You are not losing your mind. You are grieving.

Grief brain fog is one of the most common and least talked about parts of losing someone. People expect tears. They do not expect a grieving father to forget his PIN at the checkout, or a grieving daughter to lose her keys three times in one afternoon.

The fog can look like forgetting words in the middle of a sentence. Losing track of what day it is. Struggling to follow a conversation. Feeling slow and heavy, as if your thoughts are wading through water. Small decisions, like what to make for dinner, can suddenly feel impossible.

If you are older, it can be especially frightening. You may wonder if this is the beginning of something worse. That is a fair question to bring to your doctor, and I will say more about that below. But for most people, grief brain fog is exactly what it sounds like. It is grief, showing up in the mind.

Grief brain fog: what grief does to your thinking

What the research shows. In a 2024 study of bereaved older adults published in International Psychogeriatrics, people with the most intense grief scored lower on tests of attention, processing speed, and the kind of thinking we use to plan and shift between tasks. The connection showed up mainly in the first six months after the loss. On average, their scores still fell within the normal range. (International Psychogeriatrics, 2024) Grief brain fog is real, and it’s not your fault.

That last part is worth reading twice. The fog is real, and it is measurable. But it tends to be a season, not a sentence.

Why does it happen? Grief takes an enormous amount of mental energy. Mary-Frances O’Connor, a psychologist at the University of Arizona, says that “grieving can be thought of as a form of learning.” (American Psychological Association) Underneath everything else, your brain is quietly relearning thousands of things. Who to call with good news. Who sits in that chair. Who will not be at Thanksgiving this year.

That background work does not pause just because you need to balance the checkbook. So there is simply less left over for everything else. Add the broken sleep that so often comes with grief, and it is no wonder your mind feels foggy.

Keep reading: Three in the morning: when grief keeps you awake

The God who remembers that we are dust

Psalm 103 is a song of David, and it opens in an interesting way. David talks to himself. He tells his own soul to bless the Lord and not to forget all the good things God has done.

Think about that. Even David needed reminding. Even the man after God’s own heart had a soul that could forget.

So David starts listing what God has done. God forgives. God heals. God rescues life from the pit and crowns it with steadfast love and mercy. God is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.

Then, in the middle of that list, comes the verse at the top of this post. “For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust” (Psalm 103:14, ESV).

The Hebrew word translated frame comes from a verb that means to form or to shape, the way a potter shapes clay. It is the same root used in Genesis 2, when God forms the first man from the dust of the ground.

So when David says God knows our frame, he is saying something tender. God knows how He made us. He shaped us by hand, out of dust. He knows our limits better than we do. He is not surprised when we run out of strength, or memory, or words.

Notice the contrast in the psalm. We are the ones who forget. God is the One who remembers. When your mind cannot hold onto the date of the appointment, God has not lost track of you for a single moment. When you cannot find words to pray, He remembers what you are made of, and He is gentle with it.

Gentle ways to live with the fog

Grief counselors tend to give the same counsel for brain fog, and it is less about fixing your mind than about being kind to it.

Lower the bar for a season. This is not the year to expect peak performance from yourself. Where you can, put off big decisions, like selling the house or moving across the country, until your mind is clearer.

Give your memory a place to rest. Keep one notebook by the door and one calendar on the fridge. Choose one spot for your keys and glasses, and put them there every time. Writing things down is not a sign you are failing. It is a way of taking a load off a brain that is busy with heavier work.

Bring a second set of ears. For important appointments with the doctor, the lawyer, or the bank, ask a friend or family member to come along and take notes.

Care for your body. Sleep, water, real meals, and a short walk outside all help a tired brain.

And please talk to your doctor if the fog is getting worse instead of slowly better over the months, if you find yourself lost in familiar places, or if the people who love you are worried. Grief can overlap with depression and other health problems, and those deserve care too. Telling your doctor you are grieving is not an excuse. It is important information.

The same God who knows your frame is not asking you to run at full strength right now. You are allowed to be human in this season.

Keep reading: When everyone goes home: grief after the funeral

When you cannot remember, He remembers you

One of the last conversations Jesus had before He died was with a man who had nothing to offer. He was a criminal, hanging on the cross beside Him. He had no good works to point to, no time left, no theology worked out. He said only this: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42, ESV).

And Jesus answered, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43, ESV).

That man did not hold on to Jesus. He asked Jesus to hold on to him. And Jesus did.

Grace works that way. Your relationship with God does not depend on how sharp your mind is, how long you can concentrate in prayer, or whether you remembered to read your Bible this morning. It rests on what Jesus has done, and on His memory, not yours. He remembers that you are dust. And He loves you completely.

If you are not sure where you stand with God, that short prayer from the cross is a good place to begin. “Jesus, remember me.” It is enough. If you would like to know more about what it means to know Him personally, you can read more here.

Something to sit with this week

Write Psalm 103:14 on a sticky note and put it where you lose things most. The front door. The fridge. The bathroom mirror.

Each time your mind slips this week, let that note speak for you. He knows my frame. He remembers. Then take one slow breath and try again, without scolding yourself.

You may miss a few more turns this year. You may walk into a few more rooms and wonder why. That is all right. For most people the fog lifts slowly, often in patches. And while it lasts, you are held by Someone who has never once forgotten the way home, and has never once forgotten you.

Blessings,

Pastor Howard