There’s this numbness I felt often growing up. Despite everything going well enough on the surface, underneath, there was a great weight pulling me down. Maybe it’s that warrior spirit fighting through the noise of this distracted generation. Maybe it’s the need of wanting to feel more alive than just going through these motions. It was this feeling that would cause me to drink the most heavily. This unbearable ennui. Now, let’s try something else. 
It kicked in on the drive home.
Good day without any major disappointment. Talked about some heavy stuff. There’s a lot of pain buried away. It doesn’t feel good to let these sorts of memories out, and considering my topics, they’re unpleasant. Even bringing it up was obtuse. I seemed fine until the grocery store, actually.
Was it disappointment over purchase options?
No. While there were many things I was mildly interested in distracting myself with, nothing there could fill in the hole I was carrying around. At least in an inspired moment, I put back the basket containing a liquor ad and replaced it with something else. I did glance over the bottles in “the danger aisle.”
Not good. Not this numbness again. Been a while.
I frequently get minor pangs of sorrow. We all might. Some ring louder than others. Some, like one as I walked through the bus terminal around one year ago, are momentarily deafening. Nothing that won’t pass with a little patience. Those are nice by comparison. They’re gone just like an ambulance’s wailing siren.
These are like riding in that ambulance.
When I got home, I knew I was in it when I needed to go to bed. It’s like a survival mechanism. When something gets too overwhelming, I will hide in the form of naps or escapism now. Before, hours of videogames, reddit, and drinking all the while. So now, let’s dig deeper into what’s happening.
Nothing bad. Everything’s acceptable.
Besides some heavy topics, nothing terrible. I am disappointed even with my low expectations in some situations. These are not under my domain of implied control. In fact, it turned out well. Did most of what I wanted to do today, fit in most everything, and now I am a few hundred words and a rowing set from rest.
What’s the hang up? Shouldn’t I feel good?
I don’t think we should always feel ecstasy. We should feel brief, profound sadness when bad things happen. We should feel angry. After my panic attack, I received a prescription for a benzodiazepine and SSRI. The SSRI made me feel like the living dead. No emotion, no interest, and yet that numbness was there.
It was a lack of self-expression.
I’m certain my personal experience wasn’t a chemical thing or a necessity. That numbness passed after I flushed away the sobriety-tempting benzodiazepines, and this numbness will pass after I row and rest. For others, it’s not that easy. We all struggle.
The sin is saying that out loud in modern society.
|Sources: My personal experiences
Inspirations: My personal experiences
Photo: The moon that night. This was going to be published before “Relapsing on Diphenhydramine” took its place.