‘No matter what I say and do, my inner world is dry, frozen and barely enlivening. I go through the motions of duty and delivery at home and at work. I am just numb,’ a dear friend told me. This got me thinking. ‘Numb’ is a state, but sometimes a statement too.

Numb is my response to fear – a temporary hiding to feel safe.

Numb is an anaesthetic that offers me relief from intolerable pain, an agony too much to bear.

Numb is my state when the shock of encountering the unexpected overwhelms me, and I can’t know what I feel or what to think. I call it brain fog and stumble from one moment to another.

Numb is my angry response to fleeting joyous moments and transient good times that I wished had stayed longer.

Numb is when my rational self takes over and keeps me functional and engaged in a way that I don’t have to acknowledge intense feelings.

Numb is my statement of denial, an unwillingness to take myself seriously anymore and remain clueless, hopeless and helpless.

Numb is my act of self-sabotage, which rejects any overtures or offers of help, and wallows in self-isolation while secretly craving attention without risk (of rejection/denial).

Numb is my rejection of the world as is, and my retreat from it, believing that this diminishes its capacity to cause me pain and grief.

Numb is my unwillingness to own the consequences of actions – my own and those of my near and dear; it thrives on my mistaken belief that painful and unpleasant feelings can be put away by barricading oneself.

Numb is me protesting against being told who I must be, how I must present myself, how I must feel, what is being ‘good’ and worthy … and not having the energy to state and live by my truths, even if it means tough confrontations and difficult choices.

Numb is when I have tried too hard, experienced burnout, feel captive to my aspirations, dreams, roles and self-imposed expectations, and find myself incapable of replenishing or restoring myself to carry on.

Numb is my letting the wellspring of my energies and life force dry up and leaving in its wake a barren inner landscape.

Numb is my defence. It is my undoing.

Image: Jason Auch, Antarctic mountains, pack ice and ice floes, Wikimedia Commons, CC BY 2.0