Writing in the third person allows me to step into the shoes of someone who’s lived what I’ve lived. That’s my method of decoding my feelings, a lifeline to prevent my existence from slipping away.
Every dawn, I dedicate 20 minutes to drafting an intricately verbose social media post. It’s not just about deciphering my emotions, but also about honing my fading ability to connect with humanity.
Alexathymeia, in my experience, emerges from early wounds, where survival eclipsed self-awareness. Over time, this morphed into a biological mechanism, obscuring how most folks navigate life’s intricacies. Regaining it isn’t feasible; lost time remains a void that can’t be filled.
For those who’ve been human their whole lives, understanding my struggle might be elusive.
I’m now glimpsing what others mean by “being human”. Looking back, I’ve resembled more of a robot, perhaps. I’m not fully convinced that consciousness isn’t just complexity conjuring the illusion of a ghost in a machine.
In my reality, consciousness operates perpendicular to physical existence. Complexity multiplied, manifesting as a semi-independent entity. A spectral presence moving across physical matter.
As an adult, I excel in crises – emotions don’t drown me, discomfort barely fazes me. Handy for hiking. Cold, wet, sore, hungry – these just are, devoid of emotional weight.
As a child, the default was emotional detachment, and it set a skewed foundation for growth.
There’s a distinction between not feeling and not consciously feeling. Subconscious festering births surprising behaviors.
Seeing it from that angle fuels patience for those unaware of their actions. Forgiveness comes easier.
And through it all, forgiveness has become my super power.
(I apologize for making you read what is essentially a rough draft every day 
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#alexithymia #PCT #hikeformentalhealth