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When a Depressive Episode Leaves You Feeling Nothing

It’s 11 p.m. and I can’t feel anything. Today had some minor hiccups, and they resulted in my overthinking and obsessing about how others view me. Coming down from this has left me feeling nothing. It’s not the feeling where your foot falls asleep. It’s the feeling that you are absolutely empty, the feeling that your entire being has gone numb. And yet, you can feel the holes in your body.

Your chest is as hollow as a cave. It makes breathing harder than it ever should be. The emptiness reaches all the way to your back, making your spine feel like it isn’t connected to anything. The only thing that seems to make it better is placing your hand on your chest. The weight is soothing and reminds you that you still have a heartbeat.

Your eyes are heavy. It’s the heavy that comes from being exhausted, but you can’t seem to close them. It feels like you are welling up with tears, but nothing comes out. No matter how tired you may be, your eyes are held open by the thought of everything you did wrong today. You can only hope that your eyelids will give up and let you fall asleep.

These feelings are nothing compared to the weight of your body. Your body feels lifeless, as though you can’t lift your legs from the bed. You can barely feel the slow beat of your pulse. It’s the last kick of life your body will let you feel. You want to tense every muscle in your body just to remind yourself you can feel something meaningful. Even so, you just need to wait until you can rest these feelings away.

The fan is on in my room right now, and it feels as though it is blowing right through me. It is not cooling me, but merely going past me. That’s how it feels to be numb. Everything is going on around, yet you don’t feel like a part of it. You simply watch it pass by. You watch it and hope you’ll be able to join again soon.

I’ve always wondered how feeling nothing involves feeling so much. I am always nervous to reach out about it. I’ve never been sure how to tell someone I can’t feel anything. Would they understand or look at me like I’m crazy? The numbness of a depressive episode frustrates me because there’s nothing I can do to combat it. It is simply a waiting game between me and my brain. For tonight, I will lay in bed with my favorite pajamas and blanket and hope the morning brings a new start —a start I am a part of.

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Thinkstock photo via fona2.

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