😶‍🌫️ Not Numb, Just Navigating: How Trauma Shapes the Way I Feel

I used to wonder why I didn’t get excited like other people.

A middle-aged woman with short dark hair and hoop earrings sits at a wooden table, writing in a notebook beside a laptop and coffee mug. Her thoughtful expression and soft lighting reflect a quiet moment of reflection and healing.

Why a “big moment” felt small to me.
Why I didn’t light up the way others seemed to — at birthdays, surprises, even when good things were happening.

And recently, I realized something that hit me deep:
It’s not that I don’t feel.
It’s that trauma trained me not to.

Excitement Can Feel Unsafe When You’ve Lived in Survival Mode

When you've lived in an unpredictable home…
When you’ve been hurt by the people who were supposed to protect you…
When you learned that “getting your hopes up” usually ended in disappointment or backlash…

Your body adapts.
You start to protect yourself from feeling too much — because too much has never been safe.

Excitement? That means you're vulnerable.
Joy? That means the fall could be worse.

And even when the danger passes, the body and brain can take a long time to believe it's finally okay to feel big things again.

Other Feelings That Trauma Skews (and What I’ve Noticed in Myself)

Guilt, even during rest or happiness: Like I don’t deserve to feel calm unless I’ve “earned it.”
Detachment from joy: I know something good is happening… but I feel far away from it.
Fear of being too happy: Because it’s hard to trust that the good thing won’t be taken away.
Hyper-independence: “If I don’t need anyone, I won’t be let down.”
Delayed reactions: Sometimes, I feel the emotions hours — even days — after the moment has passed.

It’s not that I’m cold or unfeeling.
It’s that my wiring was designed to survive — not celebrate.

So What Now?

Now, I give myself grace.
I remind myself that flatness doesn’t mean failure.
That not jumping up and down with excitement doesn’t mean I don’t care.
That my body, my brain, my heart — they’re still learning what safety feels like.

And honestly? That’s okay.
Healing doesn’t always look like fireworks.
Sometimes it looks like noticing I smiled… even just a little.

To Anyone Else Who Feels This Way: You’re Not Broken

If you’ve ever felt like something was wrong with you because you weren’t “excited enough,” or “happy enough,” or “sparkly enough” — please know:

You are not broken.
You’re healing.
And sometimes, healing starts in silence, not celebration.

The Creative Nest