🫥 Numbing Shame Numbs Everything

This is a follow up to my article on coping with OCD based on Brené Brown’s book, Daring Greatly,¹ deconstructing shame and the stigmas behind vulnerability. Dr. Brown has a few Ted Talks on the subject, so I recommend watching those too.

I prioritized her book on my Kindle because my mental wellbeing surpasses any fascination with quantum computing, string theory, macroeconomics, statistics, writing, and mathematics.

I struggle with superficiality. Not “small talk” in conversation or “basic” behaviours, but rather suppressing any deep feelings/emotions. If you found the last article difficult to read, imagine the extent of my emotional detachment from almost everyone around me. I thought that suppressing of emotions made me stronger instead of being some maladaptive protective mechanism.

Yesterday

Yesterday, I went to the Laurier Book Club for the first time. Although I'm a pretty social guy, I struggle with answering my own questions. The folks I engaged with called me an icebreaker: someone who kept the conversation going with more than just “would you rather?” questions. Nobody got to know me since my conversations always felt like interviews, or if I was feeling provocative, interrogations. I left the club with the impression of myself that I had given others, having tons of thoughts about everyone, but none for myself, since I didn’t say anything substantial on that topic.

Instead of moping around, waiting for the day to end, I asked myself a couple of questions after noticing that I was the only person stopping anyone from getting to know me.

1. Have I really fooled myself into thinking I don’t have anything to say that I wouldn’t later regret in the shower?
2. Is OCD just a projection of shame, cowardice, and fear from embracing who I am?
3. Do I know who I am?

Today

At that book club, I learned I’m not incapable of feeling empathy or connection. Empathy was just another casualty of my effort to repress pain, discomfort, fear, and judgment, incidentally inhibiting kindness, modesty, and optimism.

I numbed the bad stuff, and as Dr. Brown said, if you numb the bad stuff, you numb everything and become nothing. It's a scary, depressing hole to live in, and I’ve just began the effort to crawl out. Everyone tried helping me, but I ignored them, for I thought I was at peace.

Tomorrow

I’m most grateful that I’ve stopped the silence by throwing shame and insecurity into the open, hopefully reducing their hold over me. I’ll socialize even harder now in an attempt to peel back the malicious layers of “protection” I tacked on.

The solution the last post offered was to surrender the fight against anxiety to avoid more anxiety (which has a little truth to it). You know what? Fuck that, I’m diving into the deep end. I don’t accept who I am, and am tired of pretending that I’m this person.

Fear of the pain and the tears surrounds me, but if they aren’t shed, the regret of not being courageous at this age will overcome any discomfort I feel from uncovering my identity.

Why tell you about this rather than my private journal? Call this post a New Year's resolution. It’s been exactly a year since I stopped being Muslim; began a path of pathological deceit; and repressed empathy, connection, and intimacy. The mirror became disappointed, no longer recognizing who was starting at it. Let's make that mirror proud, and hopefully, others will follow.