Being alive is a wonderful experience on many accounts. Alive-ness is often equated with depth of feeling or awareness of one's surroundings.
Experientially, there's a subtle difference between awareness and feeling. Granted, you can't be aware of a feeling without feeling the feeling first. But awareness extends beyond just feelings. You can be aware of something without necessarily feeling it.
Of course, something means inanimate objects, here. Being aware of a tree, for example.
You can perceive its presence, notice its features, acknowledge its existence without necessarily feeling an emotional connection to it.
But even with animate objects, like people or animals, there's a certain distance that can develop.
As in you observe others, interact with them, and yet experience a profound sense of disconnection, akin to watching life unfold through a pane of glass.
For me, detachment comes about when I'm only aware of my immediate surroundings without any sense of feeling accompanied by it.
It's not like I'm trying or not trying to feel anything in particular. It's more of a state that I inadvertently fall into and find difficult to escape, most times.
Emotional Neutrality
This state of detachment isn't necessarily pleasant or unpleasant. Usually, it depends on what the previous state of consciousness was, joyful or sad.
A more correct term could be emotional neutrality. The aliveness of life is kind of numb down, and experiences seem less meaningful.
It wouldn't be untrue to think of it as if I'm operating on autopilot, going through the motions of daily life without truly experiencing them.
Also, there are different varieties of detachment.
Sometimes it manifests as a protective mechanism, which can come in handy because it's a way to shield oneself from potential and unnecessary pain or disappointment.
Other times, it can emerge as a response to overwhelming emotions, similar to a circuit breaker that trips when emotional current runs too high.
And very rarely, "emotional neutrality" appears without obvious cause, a cloudy fog that descends without warning.
What troubles me most about these episodes is their unpredictability, obviously. I can be fully engaged one moment laughing with friends or absorbed in a creative work and then, without warning, I feel myself drifting away from the experience, shifting into a spectator pov rather than a participant.
I definitely wonder if others experience similar states of detachment. Is this a universal human experience, or is it unique to certain personality types or psychological conditions?
One of the consolations I tell myself is that it's the mind's way of creating space for processing and integration or just natural counterbalance to intense periods of emotional engagement.
The path back to connection isn't always clear either. In many cases, I'll just have to sit it out and try creative expressions with the hopes of finding a bridge back to feeling.
Thanks for reading!! Share your thoughts below on the comments.
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