A.S. Thorne

For a long time, I thought survival meant silence.
If I didn’t feel it-didn’t name it-maybe it couldn’t destroy me.

So I went numb.
Because numbness is quieter than pain.
Because when you’ve sat at the edge of yourself – when depression curls its fingers around your lungs – feeling anything can seem like a threat. Like a trapdoor. Like weakness.

But numbness doesn’t protect you. It just buries you slowly.

There were days I couldn’t cry.
Nights I couldn’t sleep.
Mornings when brushing my teeth felt like climbing a mountain.

I remember staring at a wall for hours and calling it rest.
I remember smiling so people wouldn’t ask questions.
I remember thinking about death – not out of drama, but because it sounded like relief.
Like a way out.

And still, I pretended I was fine. Because numbness wears a mask better than grief ever could.

Until one day, I didn’t.

The bravest thing I did?
I chose to stay.
I chose to live.

I let the ache take shape.
I let the grief wash over me.
I let the rage surface without apology.
I stopped telling myself to calm down, to move on, to be strong.

I shattered.
And that shattering saved me.

Through my own experience – and in my work with trauma survivors – I’ve learned that emotional numbness isn’t just a symptom. It’s a survival strategy. Our brains do what they must to keep us alive.

But survival isn’t the same as healing.
Sometimes the hardest part of recovery is giving ourselves permission to feel what we were never allowed to process.

I’ve seen the bravest kind of courage in people who finally stop pretending—and start reclaiming their story. One feeling at a time.

But if you’re in a place right now where surviving feels impossible, please know this: you are not less worthy. You are not a failure. You are not weak. Sometimes the weight we carry is too heavy to hold alone – and that is not your fault.

You deserve help. You deserve support. You deserve to stay.

If you need someone to talk to, you can call or text 988 in the U.S. at any time. If you are outside the U.S., you can find help here: https://findahelpline.com. You don’t have to face this alone.

Because the truth is: healing doesn’t come from pretending you’re okay.
It comes from giving your pain somewhere to go.

I stopped stuffing everything into silence.
I stopped minimizing my story.
I stopped apologizing for being someone who feels deeply.

And no, I’m not “better.” I still have heavy days. I still shut down sometimes.

But now, I know the difference between avoiding pain and surviving it.
I know that feeling deeply doesn’t make me broken – it makes me real. Brave. Alive.

So if you’re in that numb place right now – if you’re holding your breath and hoping it passes – this is for you:

You are not weak for feeling.
You are not broken for needing time.
And you don’t have to go through it alone.

Let it hurt. Let it move. Let it teach you how to be soft with yourself.

It’s not easy. It’s not fast. But it’s worth it.

Because sometimes the bravest thing you’ll ever do
is choose to stay.
And keep living.

🖤 A.S. Thorne