I know from first-hand experience the power of Yoga to help people consumed with grief. When we lost Daddy, the patriarch of our family, grief didn’t care that he was 95 and died peacefully at home with us. All we knew was that we were devastated.
For me, I plunged into sheer darkness, depression, and sadness. There was even a sense of hopelessness. I developed a rash on my arm that required treatment from two doctors. My primary care physician wouldn’t let me know the doctor’s office until my blood pressure came down a few notches. Even still, I was sent home with a warning card showing my numbers in red.
I was literally pulling my hair out. I could see myself doing it but I could not stop.
But perhaps the scariest of all was how my personality was changing. I felt like a wounded animal prepared to snarl and bite at anyone who came near me. I felt cold and unfeeling. I was a fatherless child who had to fend for myself. I was watching the backstory of my evil villain develop. What type of villain would I become?