When You Can't Feel Anything (Even The Hurt)

I don’t think people talk enough about numbness — real numbness — the kind where you’re not sad, not angry, not okay, not anything.

Just… blank.

I’m in that place right now, and honestly?
It’s almost harder than breaking down.

At least when I’m crying, I know I’m still connected to something.
But numbness?
It’s like floating in your own body, watching life happen but not really participating in it.

Numbness is quiet, but it’s a scary kind of quiet.

It’s the kind of quiet that makes your thoughts echo too loud.
The kind where everything feels muted — your emotions, your reactions, your spark.

You wake up and stare at the ceiling because getting up feels pointless.
You scroll on your phone but nothing sticks.
You laugh at something but don’t actually feel it.
You go through the motions because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

And you keep thinking,
“Why don’t I feel anything? What’s wrong with me?”

But here’s something I’m slowly trying to understand myself:

Numbness isn’t nothing. It’s too much.

It’s your mind going into survival mode.
It’s your heart hitting the “overload” button.
It’s your body saying,
“I can’t handle one more emotion right now, so I’m shutting everything off.”

It’s a protective response — even though it doesn’t feel protective at all.

The hardest part is how isolating it feels.

When you’re numb, you don’t know how to reach out.
You don’t have the words.
You don’t have the energy.
You don’t even know what to say, because how do you explain feeling… nothing?

People notice you’re quieter, but they don’t know why.
Your partner might ask what’s wrong, but you genuinely don’t know what to answer.
Family might say you seem “off,” but numbness isn’t something you can neatly package into a sentence.

So you pull back.
You coast.
You hide inside yourself because it feels safer than admitting you’ve disconnected from everything around you.

**And the truth?

Numbness can feel like losing yourself.**

When you don’t feel joy…
when you don’t feel sadness…
when you don’t feel anything…

you start wondering if you’re still you underneath it all.

And that’s terrifying.

But here’s the thing I keep reminding myself — and maybe you need to hear it too:

**Numbness is temporary.

It’s not your final state.**

It’s your heart resting.
It’s your nervous system catching its breath.
It’s your mind trying to keep you from drowning.

And even if it feels like you’re stuck in this grey, quiet fog, you’re still here.
You’re still trying.
You’re still showing up in the smallest ways — and small counts.

So what do you do when you feel numb?

You do the gentle things.
The slow things.
The easy things.

Drink some water.
Sit outside for five minutes.
Put on a song you liked before everything went dull.
Wrap yourself in a blanket.
Take a warm shower.
Breathe deeply, even if the breaths feel empty.

You don’t chase big feelings.
You don’t force yourself to “snap out of it.”

You let yourself exist — quietly — until the numbness begins to thaw on its own.

**Because it will.

Feelings always come back.**

Sometimes in a trickle.
Sometimes in a wave.
Sometimes in a way that makes you break again before you rebuild.

But numbness isn’t forever.
It’s a pause.
A shut-down.
A survival mode.

And if you’re sitting in that numb place right now, just know this:

You’re not broken.
You’re overwhelmed.
You’re not empty.
You’re exhausted.
You’re not lost.
You’re resting.

And when your heart is ready — when it feels even the smallest spark — you’ll feel again.

---The Healing Chaos