You can rebuild your life from a place of numbness—it just starts with noticing what hurts

I remember sitting at my desk, staring at a spreadsheet filled with numbers that suddenly meant nothing. It was 3 PM on a Tuesday, and I couldn't feel anything. Not tired, not sad, not frustrated.

Just... nothing. My colleague asked if I wanted coffee, and I couldn't even muster an opinion. That was the moment I realized I'd become a stranger in my own life.

If you're reading this from your own place of numbness, where days blur together and you can't remember the last time you felt genuinely excited or genuinely sad about anything, I want you to know something important.

You're not broken. You're protected. Your mind has wrapped you in emotional bubble wrap to keep you safe from whatever became too much to bear.

The thing about numbness is that we often don't recognize it as a problem at first. We might even think we're doing well. Look at me, so calm and collected! Nothing bothers me anymore! But then weeks turn into months, and you realize you're not living. You're just existing, going through the motions like a well-programmed robot.

Your body remembers what your mind forgets

When I finally started therapy after my burnout at 36, my therapist asked me a simple question that changed everything: "Where do you feel it in your body?"

I had no idea what she was talking about. Feel what? Where?

But she was patient. She taught me that while my mind had checked out, my body was still keeping score. That persistent knot in my shoulders? That was carrying years of saying yes when I meant no. The tightness in my chest? That was all the words I'd swallowed instead of speaking my truth.

I recently read Rudá Iandê's new book, "Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life," and one passage really struck me: "Our emotions are not barriers, but profound gateways to the soul—portals to the vast, uncharted landscapes of our inner being."

The book inspired me to start paying attention to those physical sensations I'd been ignoring. Rudá's insights about how the body is our wisest teacher helped me understand that my numbness wasn't actually the absence of feeling. It was the presence of too many feelings, all pressed down so tightly they'd formed an impenetrable mass.

Start with the smallest hurts

You might think rebuilding means tackling the biggest trauma first. But actually? Start small. Notice the tiny irritations you've been dismissing.

Maybe it's the way your partner leaves dishes in the sink. Or how your boss emails you at 10 PM. Or that friend who always cancels plans last minute. These aren't silly complaints. They're breadcrumbs leading you back to your emotional self.

I started with journaling, filling notebook after notebook with observations that seemed trivial at first. "Annoyed when neighbor's music played too loud." "Frustrated when meeting ran over." "Disappointed by soggy salad at lunch."

Reading them back, I realized each small hurt was teaching me something about my boundaries, my values, my needs. The neighbor's music? I needed quiet space to think. The overrun meeting? I valued respect for people's time. The soggy salad? I deserved to take proper lunch breaks instead of eating desk meals.

Anger is your friend in disguise

Here's something that might surprise you: when you start thawing out from numbness, anger often shows up first. And that's actually fantastic news.

Anger is energy. Anger is clarity. Anger says, "This is not okay with me." After months or years of feeling nothing, anger feels like coming back to life.

I remember the day I felt genuinely furious about a work situation. My colleague had taken credit for a project I'd led, and instead of my usual shrug and rationalization, I felt this surge of pure, clean rage. I actually smiled. Because I was feeling something real.

Don't judge your anger. Don't rush to forgive or let go or be the bigger person. Sit with it. Ask it what it's protecting. What boundary was crossed? What value was violated? What need went unmet?

The intellect trap

One thing I discovered, especially after leaving my financial analyst role, was how I'd been using my intellect as armor. I could analyze anything, rationalize everything, explain away any feeling with logic and reason.

But feelings aren't meant to be solved like equations. They're meant to be felt.

If you're someone who lives in your head, who can intellectually understand your problems but can't seem to feel your way through them, you might be stuck in the same trap I was. Your brilliant mind is actually keeping you numb, protecting you from the messiness of actually experiencing your emotions.

The solution isn't to abandon your intellect. It's to invite it to work with your emotions instead of against them. Let your smart brain be curious about your feelings instead of dismissive of them.

Rebuild doesn't mean return

When I made the decision at 37 to leave my six-figure salary and pursue writing, people thought I'd lost my mind. But I'd actually found it. Or rather, I'd found my heart, my gut, my whole self.

Rebuilding your life from numbness doesn't mean going back to who you were before. That person needed to go numb for a reason. Instead, you're building something new, someone who can feel deeply without drowning, who can be present without being overwhelmed.

Some days, you'll wish for the numbness back. Feeling hurts. Caring is exhausting. Being present means dealing with all the things you've been avoiding. But each time you choose to feel instead of freeze, you're choosing life over mere survival.

Final thoughts

If you're in that numb place right now, wondering if you'll ever feel normal again, please know that you will. But normal will be different. Better, actually.

Start by noticing one small hurt today. Just one. Maybe it's physical, like a headache you've been ignoring. Maybe it's emotional, like disappointment over a text that went unread. Don't try to fix it yet. Just notice it. Honor it. Thank it for showing up.

Your numbness served a purpose. It kept you safe when feeling was too dangerous. But you don't have to live there forever. You can rebuild, one small feeling at a time, until you've created a life that's vibrant and real and completely, authentically yours.

The journey from numbness to aliveness isn't linear. You'll have setbacks. You'll have days when you can't feel anything again. That's okay. Healing happens in spirals, not straight lines.

But I promise you this: on the other side of numbness is not more pain. It's the full spectrum of human experience. Joy that makes you cry. Sadness that somehow feels sacred. Anger that clarifies. Fear that guides. Love that transforms.

You can rebuild your life from numbness. And yes, it starts with noticing what hurts. But it leads to remembering what it feels like to be gloriously, messily, beautifully alive.