I Built a Wall Around My Heart—Then I Felt Nothing at All

The First Crack

That day which marked the end of my emotional engagement passed without any noticeable uproar. The dissolution occurred over time while both of us maintained a peaceful silence until all connections faded away.

It was a Tuesday. The gloomy sky hung above as it remained undecided between letting loose rain or staying as a dark presence in the air. An unexpected message arrived on my phone from an individual whom I believed I loved at that time. The simple text read "I can’t do this." No explanation. No apology. The departure was gentle to the point of being imperceptible except for its slight audibility.

I looked at the screen from my bedroom floor until the words on the screen became impossible to read. After the same methodical detachment I would use for photo deletion, I decided to stop.

No more vulnerability. No more aching. My policy became to not give access to anyone so that nobody could walk away from my life.

It sounded like logic. It felt like survival.

The Art of Becoming Untouchable

At first, it was a game.

I trained myself to the level of a military soldier seeking battle readiness.

Rule #1: No unnecessary attachments. Friendships stayed surface-level. Dates ended before they began.

Rule #2: Silence over sincerity. I repeated "I'm fine" as a daily habit, although I did not feel good.

Rule #3: Never apologize for indifference.

I wrapped my distance around myself as protective cover. Colleagues called me "unflappable." My relatives observed that I displayed more resilience in my behavior. My misinterpretation of their care turned it into admiration.

The high was intoxicating. I felt invincible.

Until I didn’t.

The Unintended Consequences

The numbness didn’t discriminate.

The change brought about by the brain surgery wiped out every emotional reaction I had felt before.

• During my grandfather's funeral, I stood calm as my cousins wept intensely.
• At that moment, I reacted to her confession about trauma as if she had given me daily weather information.
• I passed by several photos which showed war casualties alongside hunger-stricken individuals and cases of injustice without feeling anything.

The worst part? I failed to notice my lack of care toward my emotional state.

The Wake-Up Call

An ordinary thing broke open what I believed to be real.

A stray dog.

With its skeleton on display the weak dog approached me in a parking lot while keeping its tail hidden beneath its body. It sniffed my hand, whined. My former self would have fallen to the ground to care for this dog and potentially adopt it as a pet.

New me? I walked away.

Three short steps afterward, my stomach suddenly turned. Not with guilt—with rage. At myself.

I reached this understanding at that time because I had not eliminated the pain. I’d kill myself.

The Slow Thaw

Caring for a frozen heart cannot unfold through heroic musical presentations. Instead, it emerges disorderly and unpleasant. It’s clumsy. Ugly.

I made contact with a friend through a phone call to state that I had experienced feelings of loneliness.

A touching film destroyed me completely as I cried while eating a cold dessert.

I expressed sincerity toward the person whom my aloofness had wronged.

I had to strip away my skin in each movement forward.

The Relapse

Progress wasn’t linear.

The state of numbness felt more comfortable for several days. I ghosted people. Skipped weddings. Lied to my therapist.

During this specific experience, I became aware of the vacant feelings that flooded my being. And that? That was the difference.

The Truth About Walls

Here’s what no one tells you:

Walls don’t protect you. They isolate you.

You can’t selectively numb emotion. You isolate all emotions from your mind after blocking pain signals through your walls.

Such was the beauty of the sunset that it caused real physical pain

The thrill of a first kiss

The catharsis of screaming into a pillow with your best friend

Human hearts were never made to experience complete protection from harm. It’s meant to beat.

The Aftermath

I’m not "fixed."

The old habits occasionally try to resurface during certain days. My body responds with a reflexive jerk whenever someone announces they need to speak with me. My hesitation persists when I need to express my love for someone.

But now, I choose the risk.

Because feeling nothing? That’s the real tragedy.