Skip to main content

When the Numbness Finally Starts to Crack

There’s this strange moment that happens after you’ve been numb for a while — this tiny shift, almost unnoticeable at first, where something inside you finally stirs again.

Not a full emotion.
Not a breakdown.
Just… a flicker.

And it’s weird, because after feeling nothing for so long, even the smallest feeling hits like a foreign language you forgot how to speak.

**It doesn’t come back beautifully.

It comes back awkward and uncomfortable.**

It’s not like in the movies where you suddenly feel alive again.
No.
It’s this slow, unsettling thaw — like waking up your foot after it fell asleep.

Pins and needles.
Warmth creeping in.
A twitch of feeling you can’t quite name yet.

Half the time you’re wondering,
“Is this real? Am I actually feeling something, or is it just in my head?”

But it is real.
And it’s the first sign that the fog is shifting.

The first emotion to return is usually not joy.

People love to talk about “finding happiness again,” but that’s rarely how it starts.

When numbness cracks, the first feeling is almost always:

  • sadness
  • heaviness
  • anger you didn’t know was still inside you
  • grief you thought you outran
  • loneliness that hits a little too sharp
  • or a random burst of emotion that makes absolutely no sense

It comes out of nowhere.
A lump in your throat.
A sudden ache in your chest.
Tears you didn’t think your body was capable of producing anymore.

You might try to push it down — the numbness felt safer, predictable.

But your heart… it’s waking up.

And waking up hurts before it helps.

Feeling again is scary.
It means facing what you avoided.
It means letting your guard drop.
It means risking being overwhelmed again.

Sometimes the emotions come back in little cracks.
Sometimes they rush in all at once like your body is remembering,
“Oh right, this is what it’s like to have a heartbeat.”

You might cry unexpectedly.
You might snap at something small.
You might feel anxious without knowing why.
You might feel everything and nothing at the same time.

And you’ll probably wish the numbness would just come back, because at least feeling nothing didn’t hurt.

But here’s the truth you whisper to yourself later:

**Hurting means you’re healing.

Feeling means you’re coming back to yourself.**

Numbness is your system shutting down.
Emotion is your system rebooting.

And even though the reboot is messy, uncomfortable, overwhelming — it’s real.
It’s alive.
It’s human.

Let the feelings come in small waves.

You don’t have to rush them.
You don’t have to understand them.
You don’t have to label them.
Just sit with them.

Put a hand on your chest and breathe through them.
Cry if your body wants to cry.
Write if your mind needs to unload.
Sit in silence if the noise inside gets too loud.

Let the emotions flow in and out like waves — not something to control, just something to ride.

**The return of feeling is not the end of the numbness.

It’s the beginning of your comeback.**

Slow.
Fragile.
Uncomfortable.
But real.

And that’s enough.

----The Healing Chaos

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

When the Weight Starts To Feel Too Heavy

Hey.... I've been sitting here staring at this blank screen for longer than I want to admit. It's funny - well, not funny - but strange, how I can feel so full of thoughts and yet have no idea how to begin putting any of them into words. My mind feels like a room filled with laundry piles I keep meaning to fold, but every time I turn around, more clothes are thrown aside. Eventually you stop trying to organize them, and you just sit in the middle of the mess, hoping no one opens the door.  That's kind of where I'm at right now.  Sitting in the middle of the mess.  Tired. Overwhelmed. A little bit numb. and very, very human.  The truth is... Life has been really rough lately. I mean the kind of rough that makes you wake up already exhausted, like you ran a marathon in your sleep.  The kind where your chest feels tight for no clear reason, and every day you're just trying to convince yourself you're fine enough to function. I've been moving on autopilot - resp...

You Are Not Too Much — You’re Carrying A Lot

If you’re reading this, I want you to pause for just a moment. Unclench your jaw. Drop your shoulders. Take one slow breath in—and let it out gently. You don’t need to be strong here. I know how easy it is to believe you’re “too much.” Too emotional. Too sensitive. Too intense. Too broken. Too complicated. Especially if you’ve spent your life being misunderstood, dismissed, or told that your pain makes other people uncomfortable. But I need you to hear this clearly: You are not too much. You are someone who has been through a lot. There is a difference. When you’ve lived through trauma, your nervous system learns to protect you in ways that don’t always look pretty. When you live with mental illness, your brain processes the world differently—not wrong, just differently. When you’ve had to survive instead of being cared for, your reactions make sense, even if others don’t understand them yet. Nothing about that makes you unlovable. Healing is not a straight line. S...

Borderline Is Loving Like a Wound and Being Punished For Bleeding

Living with Borderline Personality Disorder feels like being born without skin. Everything touches you too hard. Everything hurts deeper than it should. Everything matters more than you want it to. And then people look at you and ask why you’re “so dramatic,” why you “overreact,” why you “can’t just calm down.” As if you wouldn’t give anything to feel less. BPD isn’t a personality flaw. It’s not being manipulative. It’s not being toxic for fun. It’s not attention-seeking. It’s a nervous system that learned, very early on, that love is unstable and abandonment is inevitable. It’s what happens when attachment and trauma collide and set up permanent residence in your chest. It’s loving like your life depends on it—because somewhere deep inside, it always has. People love to describe BPD from the outside. Mood swings. Fear of abandonment. Intense relationships. Impulsivity. Emotional dysregulation. Cool. Clinical. Neat. That tells you absolutely nothing about what it’s li...