Grief can make you feel as though something has gone wrong inside you—your sleep disrupted, your thoughts scattered, your body heavy or restless.
Many people worry that they are 'not coping well enough' or that they should be further along than they are.
This is not failure. It is not weakness. It is not something wrong with you. Grief affects the nervous system, the breath, and the body before it ever becomes a thought. It often arrives in waves—sometimes quiet, sometimes overwhelming—and it does not follow a straight line or a predictable timeline.
Engaging in practices like assisted stretching, mobility coaching, or yoga-based mobility training can help ease the physical manifestations of grief. Grief has been understood as a natural response to love and loss, not a condition to be cured.
What you may be experiencing—difficulty sleeping, emotional numbness, sudden emotion, fatigue, or mental fog—are common human responses to profound change.
Yes — there is a very strong, scientifically supported and spiritually coherent connection between unresolved grief, early trauma, chronic stress, and insomnia.
If you’re already sensing it, you’re right:
the same survival energy that once helped keep you alive — the fight-or-flight nervous system — is often the same energy that now keeps you awake when your body should be resting.
When someone experiences sudden loss, prolonged stress, or grows up in an unpredictable or aggressive environment, the nervous system adapts by staying alert.
This survival mode keeps stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline elevated longer than they should be.
Over time:
The result is a nervous system that struggles to downshift into deep, restorative sleep.
This is why many people with grief-related insomnia report:
This isn’t weakness.
It’s a protective adaptation that never got the signal to stand down.

My son Donovan was born with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. At just six days old, he underwent his first open-heart surgery. Over the next three years, he would endure three more open-heart procedures, a stroke, and several other lifesaving interventions—ultimately leading to a heart transplant in 2007.
During those difficult years, we met dozens of families facing similar medical challenges. Tragically, many of those babies did not survive. I saw my first child-sized coffin in 2005. (Rest in peace, Kayla.) Bearing witness to those losses and being present for grieving parents changed me forever. The experience left me not only grappling with my own anguish but also carrying deep empathy and emotional pain for others.
It took many years to find any sense of peace.
Donovan went on to thrive for 17 beautiful years. He became not just my son, but my brother, my confidant, and my dear friend. Then, on the last day of August 2023, Donovan passed away peacefully in his sleep due to complications from his transplant—specifically hardening of the arteries at the graft site.
There are no words that can fully express the grief of losing a child you loved with your whole being.
And yet, by the grace of God—and through the grounding, healing practice of yoga—I am here to talk about it.
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