Numbness

Before I climb out of my depression, I always have to breach the numbness. The “not feeling hungry” syndrome, the “I’m not tired” feeling, the “I don’t need to sleep” state. I’m numb. I can go on like this for weeks. Not feeling anything, not eating, not sleeping, not socializing with anyone, not stopping doing whatever it is I am always doing – working, writing, reading. Not being able to stop until sheer exhaustion makes me. My numbness is hard to breach, it’s like a protective shell. It hurts when broken. But it’s fake.

I was driving home from work today, and I was watching life unfold around me – people in the cars, happy, talking on the phone, being late, speeding somewhere, or to someone. And I sat in the bubble of numbness. Tired, not feeling life around me. Observing.

I ate dinner today – picked out juicy pieces of chicken and long thin rice noodles – they smelled and tasted delicious, but they were being eaten by someone else. I simply observed it and noted – tastes good, smells good. No feeling it. Numb.

I am now writing this blog entry, on autopilot, not feeling anything. Because writing will help me break out of this numbness. When I speak of it, it squirms, it doesn’t like it. It doesn’t want to go. I’m getting rid of it, pasting it letter by letter, on paper, in front of me, on the shiny white screen, blinding it – my numbness. Will it make me feel things again? Will it make me to go to bed, now – at 8:40 pm, when all chores are done, my son is asleep, my daughter is away with her friends, my husband is finishing up reading mail, and it is quiet in the house? Even the cat is fed. Can I just go to sleep? No, I’m numb, so if I don’t stop myself from working, I will keep doing it, just to keep going. Anything to avoid going to bed, to not face minutes of thinking about myself, being one on one with my thoughts, they are ugly, scary, I don’t want them, I’ll avoid going to sleep until I simply drop into bed, half-dead from lack of sleep.

What is it that makes me feel things?

This morning, when I biked, I smiled at the sun. I inhaled the flowers aroma along the road and closed my eyes for a few seconds. I felt again, then. It took a bit of numbness off.

Tonight my son has given me a little gift – we played ball, tossed it around in the house, and he laughed when it hit me right above my forehead. It didn’t hurt, but I had such a face – he laughed so hard, he fell on the floor. I laughed too. I’ve lost my numbness for a few minutes when laughing. Now I’m back at it.

Tomorrow – what can I do tomorrow to dismember it? To break out of the shell of feeling alone, being alone, being numb? I will try to look at the sun and laugh out loud, and find yet another unexpected instance of happiness in the world around. One moment at a time. One day. One month. For life.