what am I feeling when I feel blank?
Read a book about mindful meditation recently, so I’ve been paying attention to the physical sensations I experience when I become aware I’m having an emotion. Yesterday, I twice thought I “felt sad”, but when I tried to pin down the physical sensation(s), there wasn’t anything definite. I felt . . . empty, like I was a balloon that had deflated.
The context was realizing 2 relationships I’ve held onto . . . aren’t working. And when I try to recall better days from our shared pasts, I realize . . . the relationships never really worked in the past either.
It’s time to let go.
Which should mean I would feel sad, right? Except that I don’t.
This . . . absence of feeling happened last year when I broke up with a longstanding friend. I meta-felt conflicted that I didn’t feel sad. Mostly, I felt relief. Which I then felt guilty about.
I don’t even feel that much intensity about these 2 relationships, even though I’ve had them all my life.
I so wanted someone I’m related to . . . to genuinely care about me. To find me worthwhile in an every-human-being-deserves-dignity-and-respect way, but, even more, to actually enjoy spending time with me. To think/feel I was an interesting person with rare & wondrous gifts that the world needs (somehow).
I don’t think anyone I’m related to (that is currently alive) has (ever) had those sorts of feelings about me.
I seem to be an after-thought. Possibly a chore. For my parents, I would guess I’d make their Top 100 list of Important Things — I’d be around #97. I’m even less important to everyone else.
Thinking that felt agonizing for many years. Now I just feel . . . blank.
I had a whole host of conspiracy theories over the years for why none of my relatives like me very much — I was switched in the hospital as an infant; I’m adopted; my parents took me in as a favor to someone; someone had an affair with someone else, and I’m illegitimate.
My favorite: my real parents are aliens, and someday their spaceship will arrive to pick me up. (And I’ll have to confess that I was never very good at “passing” for human.)
I just . . . don’t care anymore. I’ve finally run out of whatever was fueling hope.
NO ONE IS GOING TO COME LOOKING FOR ME. No one wants to find me.
Hey, something hurts. Physically hurts. My left breast, which is generally around where my heart is, but I don’t think you can feel your own heart. (Also, my right elbow, but that’s from typing.)
But I wouldn’t say it has anything to do with “feeling sad”.
I am breathing (slightly) faster than usual, which I know is anxiety.
Yesterday I read a blog post where the writer obscured a certain situation when telling a story in such a way that my curiosity was piqued. I brainstormed ideas that might fit that undisclosed situation.
I realized that this happens a lot. I tell myself stories about what the backstory could be.
Almost always, if I ever do somehow find out what the Real Backstory is, it’s way less interesting (to me) than the stories I imagined. It’s almost always, in fact, something relatively ordinary.
Most people seem to be relatively ordinary.
Maybe my parents and other relatives wanted an ordinary child.
If someone did come looking for me, I’d want them to be as interesting as I am. I’d want to be able to learn from them stuff that I want to know. Not just through things they could tell me, but stuff I could (learn to) do.
I did reconnect with a friend from middle school via Facebook. Well, 2 friends. But 1 reconnected, only to tell me she’d write to me “when my life calms down”, which of course never happened. I corresponded with the other one, though, for several months. The quiet, interesting, quirky girl I remembered had become narrow-minded, conformist, bigoted, and thoroughly unpleasant. I couldn’t quite figure out how to detach myself, but perhaps luckily, she gleefully dumped me.
Now I wonder if everyone else I went to middle school and/or high school with would be similarly unsettling to reconnect with.
As an undergraduate, I only made friends that persisted for 1 term. I changed majors a lot, so what we had in common often fell away quickly.
If there’s something amazing that only I can do — that I was born to do — if it’s not on the path I’m already on, I sure have wasted a lot of time not doing it. While I pined away for someone to come looking for me.