
A post about apathy struck a chord with me. I experienced extreme anxiety during multiple periods of my youth and it’s been bothering me that I couldn’t and still can’t be properly happy (or sad, or any other emotion than anger) even though I am better.

For example, an extremely happy moment of my life occurred that should have alleviated all my anxiety when I was about twelve gave me nothing but a dull sense of hope. It’s like I couldn’t comprehend that things were better. 

I don’t get happy from any of the small things anymore. I get comments and kudos on my writing (yes, fanfiction, lol) and I barley feel anything more than a bit of joy even though I reads posts from people describing how happy they are each time. I only got really happy after my first comment, and that was short lived as well. I didn’t “ride the high” for more than an hour.

My dog got out and was lost. I had to try and find him. I was unable to get scared beyond a slight sense of fear, which *is* good because it’s improvement to constantly being scared, but still disturbed me. I struggled to cry until I was alone and hours had passed, and even then I had to hyper focus on the fact that he was lost to make myself feel anything intense. 

The poor thing had to be put down. I’m very glad that I was able to feel a proper amount of sadness for him (he deserves to be regarded with deep feelings), but watching him get put down was so weird to me. I didn’t feel an intense need to keep him alive or a sense of “I’ll never see him existing again.” It’s like I was halfway disassociating and the fact that I was saying goodbye couldn’t register. I grieved properly afterwards, but the emotions evaded me for far too long.

I hate my lack of emotions. It makes me feel like a sociopath, even though I’ve caused the people around me no harm and never wish to. I’m alarmingly capable of anger (and the occasional burst of anxiety before I control myself), yet struggle to be appreciative and joyous, and even sad.

I don’t know if this is too relevant, but I also have OCD and I guess constantly obsessing and causing myself repetitive bursts of fear wore down…everything.

Nor looking for a medical diagnosis or proper advice. It was just nice to get this out. I don’t think I’d be able to describe it properly to a family member, and I don’t currently have (or need) a therapist.