your inability to feel emotions likely means you’re dissociating or intellectualising.

There was a time in my life when I couldn’t feel much at all.

Not because I didn’t want to, and not because I didn’t try, but because my body had decided it wasn’t safe. I could tell you what I should be feeling. I could explain the sadness, the anger, the confusion with complete clarity. I could sit in a therapy room and say all the right things. But when it came to actually feeling them, nothing landed. It was like I was floating just above my life, watching it happen without truly being in it.

Sometimes I would even laugh about it, how I could analyse every emotion with precision but still feel so far away from myself. Other times, I’d sit alone, unable to cry, unable to name what I was feeling, just… blank. Tired. Disconnected.

Back then, I didn’t know that what I was experiencing had names. I didn’t know that dissociation and intellectualising were part of the nervous system’s amazing design to keep me safe. I didn’t know how many people carried the same silent weight. And I definitely didn’t know that healing wasn’t about forcing those feelings to surface, but gently creating the conditions that would help them rise, safely, in their own time.

Dissociation happens when your nervous system checks out. It’s a protective response to overwhelm. Your body decides that the best way to stay safe is to disconnect. To leave, in a way, even while you’re still physically present. You might feel numb, like you’re watching your life from the outside. You might notice you zone out in conversations, forget entire chunks of your day, or feel like you’re floating above your body. It can be subtle or intense, fleeting or persistent. But at its core, dissociation is not a flaw, it’s a form of protection.

Intellectualising is different, but equally protective. It keeps you in your head instead of your body. It might look like over-explaining your emotions instead of feeling them, or analysing situations so you don’t have to sit with the pain. You might say things like, “I understand why I’m hurt” without actually allowing the hurt to move through you. You might know your trauma story inside and out, but still feel distant from it, like it happened to someone else.

Both are survival strategies. Both are signs of a nervous system that’s doing its job. And both can keep you safe in moments where feeling would be too much.

But when they become your default, when your body never feels safe enough to come back online, when your feelings stay stuck in your mind or buried deep in your tissues, healing slows down. Emotions don’t process. Energy doesn’t move. The system stays in a loop of protection rather than integration.

The path back isn’t about forcing your way into feeling. It’s not about judging yourself or wishing you could be “more present.” It’s about slowly and lovingly building safety again.

This might begin with the smallest signals. A tightness in your chest, a lump in your throat, a heaviness in your belly. Noticing them. Naming them. Letting them be there without needing to change them.

It might look like placing your hand on your heart and reminding yourself that you're here and safe.

It might be five seconds of breath before you dissociate again. And then next time, ten.

Sometimes it starts by recognising your patterns with gentleness. “I notice I’m in my head again.” “I notice I’ve gone numb.” Just naming the experience can begin to soften the grip it has on you.

And if you’ve been in dissociation or intellectualising for a long time, know that this is not a failure. It’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s your body doing exactly what it was meant to do.

You are not broken.

You’re brilliant. You’ve survived. You’ve adapted. And now, with safety and support, you get to learn a new way.

When I work with clients who experience these states, we don’t try to “snap out of it” or push through. We create a space where the body can soften again. Where feeling becomes safe, not scary. Where the nervous system learns that presence is not a threat.

This might involve somatic practices, grounding, breathwork, gentle movement, or simply sitting in silence together. Sometimes it’s just about being witnessed in your experience with no fixing and no pressure.

Over time, what once felt terrifying begins to feel possible.

You learn to stay a little longer with yourself. To meet your feelings with kindness. To notice your body’s whispers before they become screams. And slowly, piece by piece, you come home.

Because your body never gave up on you. It was just waiting for you to feel safe enough to return.

This work isn’t quick. It’s not always easy. But it is so deeply worth it. It’s how we reclaim the parts of ourselves we left behind. It’s how we stop surviving and start living.

And if this speaks to something inside you, if you recognise yourself in these words, I want you to know you’re not alone. You’re not too far gone. You’re not stuck forever.

You’re simply in the middle of remembering. And you get to take your time.

When you’re ready, I’d love to walk beside you. You can view information on working with me here.

With love & support,

Shorina | Mindful Soul Collective

Holistic Counsellor, Wellbeing Coach & Business Mentor

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If this resonated, I’d love to support you further! You’ll find everything you need, from free resources to information on working with me, right here.