Temporary? Insanity

As I went to bed last night the inside of my nose was still numb from the dentist’s freezing. I’d lost that oddly prickling feeling in my cheek and the slack jaw feeling in my lips, but the numb nose persisted.

I never realized how much I enjoy the ability to wrinkle my nose.

I was curled up in bed last night mulling over the vast variety of thoughts that have been tickling my senses lately. It’s hard to sit down and give voice to just one, and I’m tempted to write little vignettes of my life and ponderings. I’m able to resist that temptation because I want to do justice to each individual belief, wonderment, and speculation.

Numbness is forefront in my mind right now, specifically the emotional numbness that I sometimes allow to overwhelm me. Only sometimes, though once upon a time that feeling was the dominant one. I still have vivid memories of detaching myself from life somehow, drifting and bumping along bemusedly, an observer rather than a participant. A people watcher but not a person.

It was an easy feeling to nurture, given my timid nature. So easy to withdraw into myself and draw the world around me like camouflage. At times I enjoyed my invisibility, other times I found myself repugnant, and sometimes I was just…numb.

The problem with feeling invisible is that you act invisible. And the problem with acting invisible is that people forget to see you. The more that happens the easier it is to believe that you aren’t a real person. The drifting becomes more a lifestyle than a hobby. I remember forgetting how to be visible. How to be real.

And then I met people who refused to allow it. Who teased or scolded or hugged me back into life. Dave was the first. I was eighteen, newly arrived at university. Increasingly aware of my vulnerability and insignificance in the world. Dave pulled me back from the brink despite being half a world away. Despite the tenuous connection the internet afforded us. That was a time of pep talks and laughter. Unexpected parcels in the mail that always got me grinning. Made me feel real.

After Dave there was David. The name similarity seemed more than coincidence to me. David who I’d known since I was eleven and admired from afar. David who I had long honest talks with and who was blunt but gentle as he pointed out to me my worth even as he pointed out how ridiculous I could be. A good friend. I was never invisible to him.

And there was Jo. Oh Jo. Such keen vision she had. Such a way of poking and prodding. Of insisting till I was swept up in the wave of her powerful personality and carried out of myself into life. Scolded and teased till I broke down and started living as much to hush her as to please myself. Another good friend.

Fraser. My first kiss. Impossible to feel invisible to him after that.

Neil. He shattered my then fragmented invisibility. Stripped away the numbness and forced me to feel more acutely than I ever had. Everything I’d been avoiding came crashing down upon me, wave after wave of feeling. Now, blessed/cursed by hindsight, I can remember feeling angry even in the midst of being smitten. It was so hard to let go of those last bastions of self-defense.

So worth it.

I still retreat into numbness from time to time. It is still a comfortable, familiar place to live. I never stay there long, though. Too many people have pierced my invisibility. Too many people know how to draw me out again. Dedee especially. Who can make me laugh through tears. A rare gift.

Now, I look out into the world and I try to find the invisible. Try to see through their camouflage and offer what little I can to the strangers, more to those who are or could be friends. A smile, a hug, a tidbit of praise. It takes so very little to rub some of the numbness away. To remind them how good it is to feel real. To help them want to be.