This is grief- am I sick?

I've only come to realize in the last couple of weeks what an impact grief has, physically. I am frequently nauseous and I am exhausted all of the time. Because grief is kind of an asshole, I'll forget to eat for many hours. Not long enough to suffer malnutrition, but long enough to feel completely sick, like I suddenly just can't go on. My whole body aches, the thought of food is nauseating. It's tricky because I'll have never felt hungry and food will sound revolting. So I start wondering if I'm pregnant? (Nope.) Do I have cancer? (Nope.) Is it the flu? (Nope.) Oh, I haven't eaten in nine hours, maybe I should just try a cracker. I do this at least a couple times a week. I guess it just always surprises me because I am generally an emotional/stress eater. There are no rules with grief, though. It is so overwhelming and inescapable, you may or may not respond to it the way you have other stressors throughout your life.
Speaking of stressors, do you know what has been a super fun and new grief symptom? Headaches. Headaches for days. I don't typically get a lot of headaches (I know, I have counted my blessings on that many times.), so usually there's a reason- minor dehydration, illness, etc. I've tried all the things- more water, nutrient-dense food, less junk, I'm not addicted to caffeine or fake sugar, so it's not that, it's not allergy-related. Then I wonder am I pregnant? (Nope.) Is this the lead up to a brain aneurysm? (Not yet and probably nope.) It turns out it's due to the stress of grief. Ugh.
My physical symptoms of grief are exhaustion, nausea, sensitivity to noises, and headaches. And the brain fog. Is that a physical symptom? It's hard to know. There might be a few more, but those are the main ones. How fun for me that most of those coincide with pregnancy symptoms. Right? (Dude, we are not about to have a baby. The end.) It's super annoying, but when I think about it, it kind of makes sense. When you're pregnant, there is another living thing attached to you, basically draining you of life, not all the way, just enough for it to grow. When you're grieving, your grief is like a parasite, sucking the life right out of you. I mean, one is a good thing and the other is soul-crushing, but they have a similar effect.
Other quasi-physical effects are the ways anxiety manifests itself. For me, that's anxiety or grief attacks. Anxiety attacks and what I call grief attacks feel similar, but one is my brain focused on something present or in the imminent future that I cannot handle (anxiety attack), the other is the direct response to pain of the past (Eli's suffering and death). Sometimes I can practice grounding strategies and sometimes I'm just sobbing on the floor, trying to breathe. Grounding strategies are using your senses to basically prove to your brain that even though you feel swallowed up, you are physically okay. I know there are specific recommendations on what to do, but it's hard to remember that when you feel like you are swirling in a tornado, so I just name one thing I can identify in my surroundings with each of my senses. Example: I see the blue sky, I hear the a/c blasting air, I smell old food someone left in the car, I feel the bumpy road under my tires, I taste the coffee I drank an hour ago (wow, I should probably brush my teeth). See, it doesn't even have to be good stuff. And yep, it happens a lot in the car. But not always.
For the record, all of this sucks. Every time. And it's not getting better. Actually, it's gotten worse in the last month. There's no avoiding or escaping it. It doesn't let up or go away. I do have hope that it won't always be like this. But I still ask my grief counselor every time, if it will always be like this and if it's going to keep getting worse. It really might get worse. That has been the trend since Eli died. I have hope that someday I will wake up and be glad that I'm alive. I have hope that I won't always feel like a home to a parasite. I do know that in some way grief will always be with me because I will always have love for Eli. And that's all grief is, is a response to love with nowhere to go.