I can feel my emotions again. I don’t know how to feel about that.

Existing Outside Of Me

It had been happening ever since I was sixteen. My entire consciousness seemed to be fading away. I was still functioning the same on a cognitive level, so there wasn’t a hugely detrimental impact.

But for some reason, everything was beginning to feel more… muted.

I noticed it. How the days seemed to be going by much faster. I was remembering less and less about certain details. It felt that I wasn’t as present in life.

I saw people taking naps outdoors and wonder how the heck they managed it. As a kid, the outdoors evoked this sense of openness that kept me fully aware.

But now, it felt like I was in some sort of gigantic dome instead. The concept of indoors and outdoors had merged. Gone was that sense of vastness and adventure.

The pandemic happened. Years of staying at home. That exacerbated the disassociation, and it no longer felt like I was even living my own life. I could feel happy or sad, but it felt so much duller.

Almost as if I were watching someone else experience those emotions instead. But at the same time, it wasn’t quite that either.

I realize I have to focus hard on my surroundings to feel its presence. Before, I could feel the ambiance of my room. The creaks and pops of my house. When I fell asleep, I could hear the air with each breath I took.

All of those senses I felt in my childhood seem to have fallen into the background. I never really notice them anymore.

Is it because I’m used to it now?
Or is it something else?

The Good And The Bad

In some ways, this muted perception of time and space was pretty cool. In college, it was easier to get through long classes.

I still felt the agonizing pain of boredom. But at the same time, I didn’t. It wasn’t as bad as waiting for the bell in middle school.

I could literally stand on a mountaintop for an hour doing nothing, waiting for the time to pass. Thoughts empty, still as a statue. All I did was exist.

It was like my own form of time travel.

The bad times still felt bad. But it was muted. The emotions went away quicker and faster. However, the same could be said for the good times. I felt that warm glow. But it was muted.

Eventually, there would be worse times to come. A second wave of depression, and hopelessness for the outcome of this world. Everything was muted. The anger. The resentment. Everything.

But the pain... That was something I could feel the strongest.
There was no shutting that out.

It felt like my heart was being constricted. Being crushed by some external forces. This feeling of weakness coursed within me. And it was tiring to even exist.

Yes, it was muted. But even if I couldn’t feel it as strongly as it was in my childhood, its impact on my body and mind was agonizing. I felt less of it, yet it felt worse.

Terrible tragedies were shown in the news. My own life was falling apart. I couldn’t feel anything else but the pain of emptiness. It felt like I was about to explode.

Emerging From The Fog

Having begun to emerge from another dark period of my life, I realized something. Back in 2022, I was watching some comedy on YouTube, and I did something I haven’t done in many years.

I laughed out loud.

For years before that, I had never done that. At most, I would be suppressing an urge to laugh, but only think…

That was funny.
…

This was the first time in some time I had heard myself audibly laugh. It was basically just a single wheeze. But I had never before had a burst of laughter like that.

aHUUUUUH-

I saw it as a great sign. Maybe I was already on the road to recovery. It meant I was beginning to feel again. That warm glow was feeling much stronger. And more importantly, it felt like it was actually mine.

But at the same time, it worried me. Because if I was truly beginning to feel again, would this mean I would feel the negatives just as strongly? Would the days of pain and suffering only feel worse now?

It was a difficult tradeoff to palate. I wondered whether it was worth the ability to be happy if it meant having to endure that pain again.

It was only recently that I was able to answer that question.

It Is Better

Days ago, I did something else that I haven’t done in many years. I was sitting in my living room, and the television was once again showing coverage of tragedies upon tragedies happening in the world.

I was sitting there with my laptop and scrolling through Medium. But I was also listening and glancing at the images every few seconds. The sounds of anguish became too much to bear.

And so I cried.

I can’t remember a time when I felt such an emotional connection to people I had never even met before.

It wasn’t audible or anything, but I had to try and hold back tears. I couldn’t manage it. A few came out. And I silently cried for the state of this world we lived in.

I had feared this very moment. The moment I would have to feel those negative feelings again. Without the “shield” of disassociation, I would bear the brunt of those emotions fully. That’s what I thought.

But despite the despair, there was something about it that was relieving. I was saddened, of course. However, I realized that expressing these negative emotions was nowhere near as painful as when I was forced to hold them in.

Since I had regained my ability to feel, I no longer felt that constriction and weakness. Rather than those feelings slowly building up and killing me inside, I could let them go.

It was just like a release valve.

As sad as current affairs may be, I am no longer incapacitated by the pain. It still hurts, but the feelings that come from expression help to mitigate that.

My perception still isn’t the same as it was when I was a child. Time is still flying by. It still feels like I am not present in my surroundings. That level of awareness may never return.

But with what feelings I can feel, I can say this again.

They’re mine.

To feel again allows me to reconnect with the human spirit. To have a sense of empathy once more, not just for others, but for myself. And because of that, I will be able to get to work again.

I am no longer incapacitated by a blockage of my own emotions.

In the coming years, I hope I’ll be able to reconnect with those senses I experienced as a kid. That drive to do good in the world in what little ways I could. To have the confidence that I would make the right decisions.

There will be good times. There will be bad times. It’s going to be a tough road ahead in this world. And I will feel every single one of these emotions along the way.

So I will laugh.
I will cry.
And I will live again.

*Cue sunrise photo.*