When You Feel Nothing

There’s a part of grief that can feel confusing, even scary.

It’s not the tears.

It’s the moments when there are no tears at all.

When you wake up and feel... flat.

When you go through the day like you’re watching yourself from the outside.

When people expect you to be falling apart, and you’re just... functioning.

Sometimes it can make you wonder:

Do I not care enough?

Why am I not feeling what I’m “supposed” to feel?

What kind of person feels nothing after something devastating?

But numbness isn’t the absence of love.

Often, it’s the nervous system doing what it knows how to do when something is too much to hold all at once.

Sometimes it’s your mind giving you a break from the intensity.

Sometimes it’s your body protecting you so you can keep going... Because there are kids to feed, work to show up for, phone calls to answer, decisions to make, or simply a life that still demands motion even when you feel like you’ve stopped inside.

Numbness can show up at the beginning.

It can also show up months later.

Sometimes you can feel “fine” all day, and then something small breaks through... a scent, a song, a photo, a random memory and suddenly you feel everything at once. And then it closes back up again.

That doesn’t mean you’re doing grief wrong.

It means grief is complicated.

And quiet grief is still grief.

It’s also common for numbness to come with little moments of guilt.

You laugh at something.

You enjoy a meal.

You feel normal for an hour.

And then you notice it and the guilt tries to rush in behind it.

As if love has to be proven through suffering.

But love doesn’t need to be proven.

And numbness doesn’t cancel it.

If you’re in a season where you feel nothing, it may help to remember:

• Feeling nothing doesn’t mean you didn’t love them.

  • Feeling nothing doesn’t mean you’re “over it.”

  • Feeling nothing doesn’t mean you’re cold.

  • Feeling nothing can be a form of survival.

Sometimes feelings return slowly.

Sometimes they come back in waves.

Sometimes they come back in unexpected places... in the car, in the shower, in the grocery store aisle when you least expect it.

And sometimes, the most honest thing you can say is:

“I don’t know what I feel yet.”

That’s allowed.

If you’re comfortable reflecting, here or just quietly to yourself:

Have you ever felt numb during grief... and then felt guilty for it?

Or if you’ve supported someone who seemed “fine” on the outside, what do you wish people understood about how grief can look?

written by Ashley Donovan