Dear God:
What’s with this detachment I’ve been feeling? Complete indifference. Apathy. I feel nothing, nothing at all. Not even my own heart beating in my chest. I breathe in and I know my lungs fill with precious and life-giving air, but I feel nothing. I pray and I know You are listening and responding, but I have no warmth, no tingle, no shiver down my spine. I am simply detached.
Visions of hatred and violence on television should make me cry. I have no tears. Poetry written for You that I read should move my emotions. I have no awe. The plight of my friends should cause me concern. I have no fear. I am simply detached.
I have spent a significant period of time trying to figure this out; trying to point to the moment when I started feeling detached. I cannot put my finger on it and I realize now that I cannot figure it out. Furthermore, if I can’t figure it out, I know I can’t fix it. So, I’m writing to You today to hand it over to You. I’ve mentioned it in prayer, but I don’t think You are hearing me. I need You to take this from me. I want to feel again. I know in telling You that I could be suddenly struck with debilitating heartache or overwhelming joy. I don’t care – I’ll take whatever You have for me – just so I can feel again.
Like the plea of George Baily on the bridge at the end of It’s A Wonderful Life: “I want to live again.”
Jessica
P.S. Thank You for allowing laughter to stay through this – without it, I don’t think I’d know I was actually breathing.
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