I Stopped Feeling Anything For a Few Weeks

It was one of the most terrifying periods of my life

My mental health, much like anyone else’s, has been up and down throughout my life. Sometimes I was aware of it and sometimes I wasn’t. There were moments of deep sadness, deep anger, a lot of crying, a lot of fear, severe anxiety, and sometimes panic attacks. Until September 2020, I thought my most difficult mental health episode was a claustrophobia breakdown I’d had when I was 14. When I quite literally thought I’d die because I was in a big crowd that I felt I had no escape from.

But I can now confidently say, above and beyond all the raw, painful, and very intense emotional moments of my life, the most terrifying one was when I lost all ability to feel anything at all.

Have you ever stopped feeling anything at all? It’s an empty, empty place to be in, and confusing beyond understanding.

I never did find out for sure what triggered this episode, but I suspect it was a combination of factors. In September 2020, when I stopped feeling, I was going through severe homesickness — having not seen my family in over a year, a lot of stress because I was at odds with my former flatmate who was going out of her way to make me and my partner’s lives miserable, and I was also struggling with serious sleep issues, unable to fall asleep almost every night. I was exhausted both mentally and physically.

Every night I was terrified to go to bed, because I knew that, try as I might, my body would refuse to fall asleep. Every day I was wondering where my former flatmate would hit next, worrying whether we’d have to move out because of her, or, even worse, cover her share of rent as she’d left us no other choice. My last year of university was also about to begin. And I was so, so unbelievably sad because I missed my family.

So I think my mind just shut everything down so my sanity wouldn’t crumble under all the pressure. I woke up one morning feeling empty. This seemed like nothing at all — at least I wasn’t stressed or sad anymore. I was just…void.

But when I realised the feeling of void kept persisting for days, which turned into weeks, I started to panic. Even panicking wasn’t normal to me anymore. It was just this hint of concern and confusion every time I was aware I was devoid of emotions. But nothing more.

Gone were the fast heart rate, and the churning stomach I usually got when I was scared. That’s when I knew something serious was happening and I needed to sort it out somehow. I also didn’t want to do anything anymore. I was on autopilot, honouring my responsibilities: going to work, cooking, cleaning, freelancing, but I didn’t feel like doing any of those things. I actually remember only one feeling through the whole period: wanting to just exist, away from everything that was expected of me.

I proceeded not to feel much if anything at all for a few weeks. To everyone around me, I just seemed a little more serious than usual. But to myself, I was just not there anymore. I ended up wanting to feel stressed, or sad, but especially happy and joyful and enthusiastic again. I just wanted to feel something. Anything.

One afternoon I sat down to do some work and it all came crashing down. I was trying to write, but when you’re devoid of emotions, writing isn’t easy. So I started to weep and wail instead. For no reason. I cry very often. It’s my release valve. But this time, I had no idea why I was crying. Only that I was. My partner heard me and came to comfort me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t tell him what was wrong. Only that I wanted to feel like myself again. I was sick of gliding through life like a shadow. Although, ironically, only weeks prior, that was what I had wished for.

I still don’t know what that episode was about. I was telling my therapist how I wanted to be more in control of my emotions and not let myself be affected by certain things so easily. And his answer turned my whole perception upside down. He asked: “Do you know what not being affected by certain things is a sign of?” Foolishly, I answered: “Self-control?” Which he crushed in a second with only one word: “Depression”.

Had my few weeks of feeling nothing been a dangerously close call to depression? Was I about to become depressed? I don’t know. All I know is I’ll never wish I didn’t cry so much ever again.

Until then, I’d always been annoyed at my complete inability to stop crying when I felt like it. I’m never in control of it and sometimes it’s frustrating. But when crying turned into my brain’s fight or flight response to a very serious mental health issue unfolding within me, awakening me, and making me want to fight again, I started seeing it in a different light. It probably saved me and brought me back to the surface from a horrifying place.

So next time you cry, be grateful for it. You don’t know what your mind is trying to save you from.

Thank you for reading. Join us as Meld of Minds; a community sharing a mental group hug with words. Can your mind help pay it forward?