I don't feel anything anymore. "I don't feel anything and I don't want anything"

I didn't know when this would happen. But he was sure of it. I didn't want to, but I had to. For your safety. For your own sake. I didn't want to sleep anymore. I got dressed and went downstairs. My gaze fell on the photograph. Hogwarts. Prom. Sirius and Marlene, James and Lily, Remus and Sofia. Me. Seven smiling people looked at me from the photo. Disgust. -Yes, I'm ready to betray. “Loudly, too loudly, as if trying to convince myself,” I said. Although, betraying is not the right word, rather exchanging for your life. These people became strangers to me. I didn't feel anything anymore. I remember at the end of my first year they saved me from the Slytherins. On the second, when I blew up the boiler, they sat with me all night in the Hospital wing. I respected them, loved them. I was jealous. Was nearby. Always. And now everything has changed. They are no one to me anymore. I didn't feel anything anymore. Someone's head appeared in the fireplace. Black and Lupine. They probably want to call the Potters. Yes, they are no longer Remus, Sirius, James and Lily, but Lupin, Black and the Potters. They are no one to me anymore. I know that if I wait any longer, it will all be over for me. I won't survive. I know it. People like me never survive. But I fight, and I will always fight. In my own way. The time has not yet come. Let them rejoice, and I will survive. I never understood how anyone could be happy at such a time. I never understood them at all. Why was it necessary to chase Filch's cat? Why mock Snape? Snape. He is now stronger than us. He's with the Dark Lord. He won. Order of the Phoenix. I felt almost nothing. Only pity for those who have not yet realized that they have lost, been killed, are dead. I walk along the dark corridors of the Order, familiar faces everywhere. They smile and wave their hands. Why are they smiling? Fools. They don't know yet. I betrayed them. I betrayed him the minute I first felt a pang of jealousy, when my soul began to gradually rot. In their first year, when Potter and Black were able to fly on a broom. But not me. Sometimes it seems to me that I will soon drown in the rot that fills me. But I survive. How I can. In my own way. It's very cold at Malfoy Manor. It's cold for my rotten soul. Maybe it's not too late to stop. No. I must. For your safety. For your own sake. -So so so. - The Dark Lord’s voice penetrates to the bones, climbing into the most remote corners of my consciousness. - Peter, my boy. We are always glad to see people who have realized that our policy is stronger. But what can you offer us in exchange for the mark? -Information. - My voice didn’t waver. Strange. So I definitely don't feel anything anymore. - Order of the Phoenix. I know a lot about him. -Excellent, now go. I will send for you when your help is needed. - His face lit up with an ominous smile. -Yes my Lord. - I turned around and left. All. It is done. I'm almost safe now. Almost. It was cold and dark in the forest. Unbearably dark. Today is the day I must accept the mark. James, Sirius and Remus think my aunt is sick, and I'm kneeling in the middle of a cold forest. It's funny. Pain. Pain pierces me all over. The realization comes that I am now a traitor. Officially. I feel confident with the mark, but not here. I remember how we walked through the Forbidden Forest every full moon. Each. I was always scared. But the realization that I would be rejected by the most popular, cheerful and brave ones was stronger. Something is stirring in my mind. Am I feeling something? No impossible. Marauders. Calm. Force. These were exactly the associations I had then. Now it's almost the same. Death Eaters. Calm. Force. The difference is just two words. Total. I must survive. Must. Godric's Hollow. House of Potters. Living room. -A rat has appeared in the Order! - Black walks from corner to corner, waving his arms. - This is the only way to explain why the eaters always end up in the same place as us! “Poor Molly,” whispered Lily, “to lose both brothers!” -Sirius is right, we have a rat. - Potter agreed. “Maybe one of the new ones,” Lupin’s voice sounded confident, but weak. Yesterday there was a full moon. I see with what care Sofia looks at him. I feel sick. I get up and go to the kitchen. How right they are. Only not a rat, but a Tail. Me: On my way back, I hear a snippet of conversation. “Perhaps,” Sirius and James exclaimed in unison. - Tail, who do you think it is? - Lily's voice sounds as if from behind a closed door. I don't want to look at her. But I have to. “I don’t know,” my voice trembled. - I have to go. Affairs. Everyone present looks at my back in surprise. Certainly. What business might Tail have? I got up and left. I couldn't be in the same room with them anymore. With people whom he previously idolized and envied. Now they are just a pitiful bunch of acquaintances. That's all. They are no one to me anymore. I didn't feel anything anymore. My forearm burns, the mark seems to burn out the skin on my arm. The Dark Lord wants to see me. -Peter, my boy! - This voice. He will always find his way into the deepest parts of my mind. I want to hide, to run away. But I can't, I shouldn't. -Yes my Lord? -I learned about a prophecy that says that there is a boy equal to me. I think this is the Potters' son. They're your friends, aren't they? -Yes my Lord. “Everything went cold inside.” But how so? They are no one else to me. I don't feel anything anymore. -You must find out everything about their son. I have to make sure, check everything. Now, go. -Yes my Lord. I am again in this unbearably black forest. I don't want to be here, I can't. And again memories. They overwhelm me. I'm suffocating in them. I am drowninig. Fifth year. Forbidden Forest. We are all in animal form. On the full moon we always wander through the forest. We wandered around. I feel incredible joy. In the form of a rat, I quickly fell behind the other marauders. My attention was drawn to movement in the clearing, behind some bushes. I come closer and, holding my breath, peek out from behind the blackberry thickets. I have never seen anything more beautiful. It was a girl. Her long silver hair fell over her eyes, and she was sitting on an old tree stump, slouching heavily. She cried, and her hair seemed to cry with her. The girl was very beautiful. I turned into a man and came out from behind the bushes. - Hello, what are you doing here? - She shuddered and looked at me. -I'm lost. “The girl straightened up, and it seemed to me that her hair had turned lighter. - Are you Peter? One of the marauders, huh? “Yes,” I felt pleased. For the first time, I was called one of the marauders, and not a friend of James, Sirius and Remus. - Come on, I'll take you with you. And suddenly, her hair began to shimmer with all the colors of the rainbow. She probably saw my stunned look and laughed. “I am a metamorph,” the girl explained. - What are you doing here? “Yes, so.. “It’s dawn soon,” she said, as if to herself. -What is your name? After all, you already know my name. -Annabelle. - Her hair turned golden. I fell in love with her at first sight. We were happy. And then. Then she died. She just left this world, leaving me alone. I try to carry out all my Lord's orders as quickly as possible. Thanks to me, the Prewett brothers died, Longbottom lies in St. Mungo's hospital. And now I'm at Marlene McKinnon's funeral. Black feels bad. I see it. I wonder if it’s as bad as it was for me when Anabelle died? I've been thinking about her often lately. I often think about what would have happened if she were alive. I probably couldn't betray her. I used to love her. Very. More than anyone. The Potters and Black are standing near the coffin, I should come over too. How strange it is to look at a deathly pale man, who just yesterday was full of life, and making plans for the future. How strange it is to know that he died because of you. Everyone thinks I'm depressed. But that's not true. I don't feel anything anymore. Black. It surrounds me. Everywhere. Everywhere I go I see black and silvery green. I had already forgotten that I was once in Gryffindor, that Lily and James' common room was once red before Marlene McKinnon died. Stop. Lily and James? No! They are Potters, only Potters. I come back to reality. It's creepy in the cemetery. Everyone has already left. There were only magicians. No one knew anyone the McKinnon family knew from the Muggle world. The whole family died. Her mother, father, brother. My gaze fell on Black. Haggard, as if gray. She was his fiancee. He feels very bad. I realized this when I saw his aristocratic mask of indifference. I've seen her hundreds of times. I'm sure he's tearing himself apart inside for being late. I know. I was there. She saw him before he died. Black knows this. He knows what she said then, he read her lips. He knew it too well not to read it. No, these were not pleas for help, not a cry full of fear of death. That's why I will never be able to understand her. "Sirius, run." I'm sure he read her thoughts, her feelings, her emotions. James, Lily, Remus and Sofia. ME: Now it’s just us sitting in this living room. Sirius is gone. Neither does Marlene. The Potters wanted him to move in with them. But this is Black. I think he's sitting at home right now, tearing himself apart with guilt. They chat about something, trying not to touch the present. They remember their school days. Prom. Back then we didn’t know what the future held for us. We knew no grief, no fear, no betrayal. Little Harry flies on the broom given to him by Sirius. It's a pity that he has to die. But I must live. Must. October has arrived. Cold and rainy. It was as if he foreshadowed something bad and terrible. Affairs in the order ceased to interest me. I visited the Potters less and less and spent more and more time at Malfoy Manor. In the mansion they treated me with disdain, contempt, but nothing. The main thing is to survive. The days became shorter and the nights longer. The Eaters killed every day, sparing neither women nor children. I felt scared. Only now did I fully realize what I had done. I recently killed Sophia. So, for the entertainment of the eaters. She screamed. Called Remus. But she didn’t beg, she didn’t humiliate herself. Are they all like that, they only think about others? It's good that I didn't feel anything anymore. I felt scared in front of these people. Now I understand my mistake. I began to humiliate myself in front of them. Serve. Godric's Hollow. Living room. Me. James, Lily and Sirius. Remus is gone. He feels bad. I immediately remember Anabel. Every year there are fewer and fewer of us. One day the moment will come when not even the smallest speck of dust will remain from us. In the meantime, I’m sitting in the orange living room, dimmed by grief. We sit and wait for something. It feels like we're waiting for Remus and Sofia to transgress. And fifteen minutes later Marlene will appear. And Anabel. He will come with a new hair color. We will live again. Smile. Rejoice. “Dumbledore told me about the prophecy,” James abruptly interrupted my dreams. Do they really know? This could be very bad. For the Dark Lord. For me. -He suggested a spell of trust. -We agree. - I was surprised at my courage. And I saw that Black agreed with me. -But you must understand that this is very dangerous. “I suggest this,” Sirius’s eyes sparkled for the first time since McKinnon’s death. As if he was about to set up some kind of prank. - Place a trust spell on Pete, and tell your friends that it’s me. So, if the eaters hunt, it will only be for me. -It is very dangerous. - Lily reminded me. “We know,” I answered in unison with Sirius. And for a second it seemed to me that we were at Hogwarts. I lived in some small village for a couple of weeks. Nobody came to see me. Never. Of course, the Potters had no time for me, and perhaps half of the devourers were chasing after Black. But this is a weak excuse for those who have broken the rules all their lives. I'm lonely again. The hope that had begun to emerge faded away with the speed of a flying patronus. I was angry. Angry with myself. To the marauders. To Voldemort. Angry at everyone. I was wrong. I thought I was starting to feel something again. But no. I made a mistake. With Anabelle's death, I stopped feeling anything. I do not live. I exist. Clinging to the life passing through me. I am nobody, an empty place. A pawn in the hands of the Dark Lord. I understand this very well. I live with this, I exist. Forest. The darkness blinded me. I don't see or hear anything. At this moment I don't exist. I like this feeling. I'm heading to the Dark Lord. Today, October thirty-first, one thousand nine hundred and eighty-one, the story of the looters will end, a story in which I always felt out of place. I'm standing in the middle of a huge hall. A chilling voice comes to me from afar. I understand what I did. I turned in the Potters. For the sake of your life. Of your existence. I turned into a rat. More precisely, I was her. Always. I am fully aware of what I did. And I remember, they are no one else to me. I don't feel anything anymore. I didn't know when this would happen. But he was sure of it. I had to. For your safety. For your own sake. Godric's Hollow. October thirty-first, one thousand nine hundred and eighty-one. A figure appeared at the gate of the house in a long black robe, the hood falling right over the man’s eyes. His face was not visible. He moved quickly and quietly, like a shadow. The man walked along the hedge and stopped near a neatly painted door. He muttered something and the door opened silently. It was very warm inside, and somewhere a TV was on. It smelled of life, happiness, love. -Who is there? - A man's voice was heard. Another second and the man saw in front of him a very young guy with jet black hair and glasses that had slid to one side. -Hello, James. - His icy voice chilled to the bones, it seemed that this voice was killing everything in its path. “It’s not too late to come over to my side and recognize the victory of the devourers.” -Never! - The young man raised his voice, but remained calm. -You chose your own path. -Lily! Run! Save Harry! Green flash. The impact of a lifeless body on the threshold of a house. Someone is running up the stairs. At this point I always wake up in a cold sweat. Today is no exception. I'm suffocating. And I know that I will never sleep again. Every night I have the same nightmare. Sixteen years have passed. And I remember everything so well, as if it were yesterday. Body knocking. Lily's cry. Green flash. Cry. Explosion. The child is alive. Harry Potter. He is now at Malfoy Manor. Right below me. It's good that I don't feel anything. Fine. People like me rarely live to old age. Very rarely. I simply cannot survive another war. Because this time there will only be one winning side. And these will not be eaters. I know. Feel. I don't want to grovel in front of people anymore. I became a rat. Tail. Finally. From the very evening when he framed Black. Now he's dead. There are even fewer looters. Me and Remus. There are only two left. I wonder how long? My gaze fell on the photograph. Hogwarts. Prom. Sirius and Marlene, James and Lily, Remus and Sofia. Me. Seven smiling people looked at me from the photo. The story of my betrayal began with this photograph. A different life, full of despair. Could I change everything? Yes. Would you? No. I'm disgusted with myself. Only Remus remained. One. I'm no longer a marauder. I stopped being one from the very minute I looked at this photo. The thirtieth of September one thousand nine hundred and seventy-nine. I remember. I remember every minute of that morning. Muffled sounds are heard from the dungeon. Holding the photo, I go downstairs. I realized that Harry wanted to escape, to deceive me. I wonder if if I let him out, the nightmares will stop tormenting me? Will I become free? Worth a try. At least somehow repay the Potters and Blacks who were rotting in their graves. I'm approaching. I open the door. I stop. From the outside it looks like I'm thinking. But that's not true. I look at a young man with jet-black hair and glasses that have slid to one side. Just like that night. Harry is the spitting image of his father, but his eyes... All he got from Lily are his eyes. Just as green. Kind ones. I catch myself thinking that I don’t feel anything anymore. Even now, when the boy is about to run away and the eaters catch me. I don't feel anything. Could this be a sign of madness? The boy walks past me. Please, if only the nightmares would stop. Second. I'm suffocating. I can't understand why. Another second and I understand. A hand, my own hand, is strangling me. A gift from the Dark Lord for my devotion. That's right, I betrayed him. I must die. I'm pathetic. Is it really going to end like this? Someone is muttering something next to me. The pain, a terrible pain, crushed me all over. Label. She's on fire. The Dark Lord probably knows everything. Otherwise it wouldn't have burned. How pathetic I am. Other people's voices gradually fade away. Another second and I lose consciousness. I'm no longer fighting for my life. I don't want to live. I don't want to exist. Perhaps now, at the last second of my worthless life, I remember her. Anabelle. Our first meeting. I don't remember the last one. She passed through as if in a fog. Yes, I don’t want to remember. I used to love her. Always. I love. Now I understand Marlene and Sophia. Sirius. I understand what it’s like when, at the last moment of your life, you think about someone else. Moment. I'm dead. Now I'm no one else. I don't feel anything anymore.

Chorus:
I
I don't want to be beautiful, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face.

I don't want to be beautiful, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face.
I don't want to be beautiful, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face.

(stupid bullet!)

[Verse 1]:
Jam and sun on the visor.
In the backpack there is a poem in your own language (bullet fool!)
On a random bus I lie into a voice recorder.
I'm always out of focus, I'm always in the background.

Focused like a suicidal man.
I wander around the city, dreaming of copulation (bullet fool!)
There are senseless whores of both sexes around, and
From the debris of clouds - God is like a warhead!

Chorus:

I don't want to be beautiful, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face (stupid bullet!)

I don't want to be beautiful, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face (stupid bullet!)
I don't want to be beautiful, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face (stupid bullet!)

[Verse 2]:
Lonely bipeds, a hundred-armed horde.
People smell like soup, like an old woman's mand... wh-wha-wha?
Queues in line to see a skin doctor.
I don't feel anything, I don't want anymore.

I don't want a hookup, I want Jericho.
On a bullet-fool riding a hungry heretic.
In substandard conditions, roll along the avenues like a wheel.
A lonely young man with a bullet hole in his face.

Chorus:
I don't want to be beautiful, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face (stupid bullet!)
I don't want to be beautiful, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face (stupid bullet!)

[Verse 3]:
Close the gate, cockatoo!
My rap is prayers, only with a razor in my mouth.
I am a miscarriage of the Russian underside.
In the capital, like a grain of rice in the belly of a Vietnamese woman (stupid bullet!)

Jesus Christ ordered baragoz.
And I raise a toast to the class holocaust (shoo-choo!)
The brothers swallow their giggles.
Daddy's kids, collect your guts!

Additional Information

Some of us do not know how to recognize our feelings, so we mistakenly think that we do not experience them.
Paying attention to your feelings makes it easier to understand others and makes our lives brighter.

“And what do you think I should feel?” - with this question my 37-year-old friend Lina completed the story about how she quarreled with her husband when he accused her of stupidity and laziness. I thought about it (the word “should” does not fit well with feelings) and carefully asked: “What do you feel?” It was my friend's turn to think. After a pause, she said in surprise: “It seems like nothing. Does this happen to you?”

Of course it happens! But not when my husband and I quarrel. I know exactly what I feel at such moments: resentment and anger. And sometimes there is also fear, because I imagine that we will not be able to make peace, and then we will have to part, and this thought scares me. But I remember well that when I worked on television and my boss shouted at me loudly, I absolutely did not feel anything. Just zero emotions. I was even proud of it. Although it is still difficult to call this feeling pleasant.

“No emotions at all? It doesn't happen like that! – argues family psychologist Elena Ulitova. – Emotions are the body’s reaction to changes in the environment. It affects both bodily sensations, self-image, and understanding of the situation.” An angry husband or boss is a fairly significant change in the environment; it cannot go unnoticed. Then why don't emotions arise? “We lose contact with our feelings, and therefore it seems to us that there are no feelings,” explains the psychologist.

We lose contact with our feelings, and therefore it seems to us that there are no feelings

So we just don't feel anything? “Not like that,” Elena Ulitova corrects me again. – We feel something and can understand it by observing the reactions of our body. Has your breathing become faster? Is your forehead covered in sweat? Are there tears in your eyes? Are your hands clenched into fists or are your legs numb? Your body screams: “Threat!” But you do not let this signal pass into consciousness, where it could be correlated with past experience and named in words. Therefore, subjectively, you experience this complex state when the reactions that have arisen encounter a barrier on the way to their awareness, like the absence of feelings.” Why is this happening?

Too much luxury

It is probably more difficult for a person who is attentive to his feelings to step over “I don’t want”? “It is obvious that feelings should not be the only basis for making decisions,” says existential psychotherapist Svetlana Krivtsova. “But in tough times, when parents don’t have time to listen to feelings, children receive a hidden message: “This is a dangerous topic, it can ruin our lives.”

One of the reasons for insensitivity is lack of training. Understanding your feelings is a skill that may not develop.

“For this, a child needs the support of his parents,” points out Svetlana Krivtsova, “but if he receives a signal from them that his feelings are not important, do not solve anything, are not taken into account, then he stops feeling, that is, he ceases to be aware of his feelings.”

Of course, adults do this not maliciously: “This is a feature of our history: for entire periods, society was guided by the principle “I don’t care about fat, I wish I could live.” In a situation where you have to survive, feelings turn out to be a luxury. If we feel, we may be ineffective and not do what we need to do.”

Boys are often prohibited from everything that is associated with weakness: sadness, resentment, fatigue, fear

Lack of time and parental strength leads to the fact that we inherit this strange insensitivity. “Other models cannot be learned,” the psychotherapist regrets. “As soon as we begin to relax a little, crisis, default, and ultimately fear again force us to group and broadcast the “do what you have to” model as the only correct one.”

Even a simple question: “Do you want some pie?” Some people feel empty: “I don’t know.” This is why it is so important for parents to ask questions (“Does this taste good?”) and honestly describe what is happening to the child (“You have a fever,” “I think you are afraid,” “You might like this”) and to others. (“Daddy is angry”)

Dictionary oddities

Parents lay the foundation for a vocabulary that, over time, will allow children to describe and understand their experiences. Later, children will compare their experiences with the stories of other people, with what they see in films and read in books... In the dictionary we inherited there are also forbidden words that are better not to use. This is how family programming occurs: some experiences are approved, others are not.

“Each family has its own programs,” continues Elena Ulitova, “they may vary depending on the gender of the child. Boys are often prohibited from everything that is associated with weakness: sadness, resentment, fatigue, tenderness, pity, fear. But anger and joy are resolved, especially the joy of victory. For girls, it’s often the other way around—resentment is allowed, anger is forbidden.”

In addition to the prohibitions, there are also instructions: girls are ordered to be patient. And, accordingly, they forbid complaining and talking about their pain. “My grandmother loved to repeat: “God endured and commanded us,” recalls 50-year-old Olga. “And my mother proudly told me that during childbirth she “didn’t make a sound.” When I gave birth to my first son, I tried not to scream, but I couldn’t, and I was ashamed that I didn’t meet the “set bar.”

Call by their proper names

Similar to a way of thinking, each of us has our own “feeling way” associated with a belief system. “I have the right to some feelings, but not to others, or I have the right only under certain conditions,” explains Elena Ulitova. – For example, you can be angry with a child if he is to blame. And if I believe that he is not to blame, my anger may be repressed or change direction.” It can be directed at yourself: “I’m a bad mother!” All mothers are like mothers, but I cannot calm my own child.

Anger can be covered up by resentment - everyone has normal children, but I got this one, screaming and screaming. “The creator of transactional analysis, Eric Berne, believed that feelings of resentment do not exist at all,” reminds Elena Ulitova. – This is a “racket” feeling; We need it to use it to force others to do what we want. I’m offended, which means you should feel guilty and somehow make amends.”

If you constantly suppress one feeling, then others weaken, shades are lost, emotional life becomes monotonous

We are capable of not only replacing some feelings with others, but also shifting the spectrum of experiences on a plus-minus scale. “One day I suddenly realized that I didn’t feel joy,” admits 22-year-old Denis, “the snow fell, and I thought: “It’s going to be limp, it’s going to be slushy.” The day began to grow longer, I thought: “How long will I have to wait before it becomes noticeable!”

Our “image of feelings” indeed often gravitates towards joy or sadness. “The reasons may be different, including a lack of vitamins or hormones,” says Elena Ulitova, “but often this condition arises as a result of upbringing. Then, after understanding the situation, the next step is to give yourself permission to feel.”

The point is not to have more “good” feelings. The ability to experience sadness is just as important as the ability to rejoice. It's about expanding the range of experiences. Then we won’t have to come up with “pseudonyms”, and we will be able to call our feelings by their proper names.

Feelings and time

This tip will help you sort out your feelings. When assigned to “its” time, the feeling helps solve the problem. Otherwise it masks another feeling.

Sadness speaks of the need to say goodbye to something, to grieve about something, to forget, or, conversely, to turn it into a memory.

Fear calls on us to provide protection against possible danger.

Anger - a signal that my boundaries have been violated and they need to be defended right now.

Resentment in this case it does not help.

Joy outside of time: you can rejoice about what was, what is now or will happen in the future. It helps us enjoy life at all times.

Too strong feelings

It would be wrong to think that the ability to “turn off” feelings always arises as a mistake, a defect. Sometimes she helps us. At the moment of mortal danger, many experience numbness, up to the illusion that “I am not here” or “everything is not happening to me.” Some “feel nothing” immediately after a loss, left alone after a breakup or death of a loved one.

“What is forbidden here is not the feeling as such, but the intensity of this feeling,” explains Elena Ulitova. “A strong experience causes strong arousal, which in turn turns on protective inhibition.” This is how the mechanisms of the unconscious work: what is intolerable is repressed. Over time, the situation will become less acute and the feeling will begin to manifest itself.

The mechanism for disconnecting from emotions is intended for emergency situations, it is not designed for long-term use

We may be afraid that some strong feeling will overwhelm us if we let it out and we will not be able to cope with it. “I once broke a chair in a rage and now I am sure that I can cause real harm to the person with whom I get angry. Therefore, I try to be restrained and not give vent to anger,” admits 32-year-old Andrei.

“I have a rule: don’t fall in love,” says 42-year-old Maria. – Once I fell madly in love with a man, and he, of course, broke my heart. That’s why I avoid attachments and am happy.” Maybe it’s not bad if we give up feelings that are intolerable to us?

Why feel

The mechanism for disconnecting from emotions is intended for emergency situations; it is not designed for long-term use. If we constantly suppress one feeling, then others weaken, shades are lost, and emotional life becomes monotonous. “Emotions indicate that we are alive,” says Svetlana Krivtsova. – Without them, it is difficult to make choices, understand the feelings of other people, and therefore difficult to communicate. And the experience of emotional emptiness itself is painful.” Therefore, it is better to restore contact with “lost” feelings as soon as possible.

So the question, “What should I feel?” better than a simple “I don’t feel anything.” And, surprisingly, there is an answer to it - “sadness, fear, anger or joy.” Psychologists argue about how many “basic feelings” we have. Some people include in this list, for example, self-esteem, which is considered innate. But everyone agrees about the four mentioned: these are feelings inherent in us by nature.

So I will invite Lina to correlate her state with one of the basic feelings. Something tells me that she will choose neither sadness nor joy. As in my story with my boss: now I can admit to myself that I felt anger at the same time as strong fear, which prevented the anger from manifesting itself.