Last weekend, I spent a slow, lovely day by the water with family, walking by the ocean, stopping for a bite at a beach café, sun on my face, nowhere to be but there.
It should have been joyful. And in some ways, it was.
But that evening, something unsettled me.
Looking back, I realized . . . I wasn’t sure I had actually felt it.
I wasn’t distracted. I was present. I knew in my head it was a good day. But I couldn’t quite feel the imprint of the day in my body. It was like watching something beautiful through a pane of glass—close but not fully mine.
It made me think about how easy it is—especially now—to move through life muted. Not because we’re careless but because we’re full. There’s so much to hold. The background noise of the world is constant: the news, the grief, the invisible strain of being the strong one.
We show up. We smile. We even lead well. And still, we can be a few degrees away from actually feeling.
In Thomas Hübl’s work, there’s a distinction I’ve been sitting with:
- Numb means we’re offline—our system has quietly pulled the plug to avoid overload.
- Frozen is different. It’s not absence—it’s being stuck in place, overwhelmed by too much.
And in both states, joy has a hard time getting in. Connection doesn’t stick. It might register in the mind but not in the body.
So, how do we know we’re really feeling—really alive in the moment?
Here are a few gentle ways I’m learning to tell:
- I feel warmth in my body—not just comfort but aliveness. Sometimes it shows up as a soft tingling. Want to know how I get familiar with it? I hug my cats. It never fails to let love and joy in. Then I get curious—where do I feel that? What’s the sensation like? Try it with your pets, your kids, or anything that reliably softens you.
- I feel moved—even slightly. A breath catches. A small ache rises. A quiet joy expands. Pay attention when your kids are laughing, when a breeze shifts the trees, when you witness someone doing something kind. Notice how you feel in response—and where that feeling lives in your body.
- The experience lingers. It echoes in me hours later. I replay it again and again, and each time, I check in: Where do I feel it now? Is it the same or has it shifted?
- I don’t just remember the day—I reenter it. I can visualize the moment and actually feel it again. This is why gratitude practices are so powerful: We can literally shift how our body feels now by recalling what we loved then.
And if none of that happens? I don’t make myself wrong. I get curious.
Was I numb? Was I safe enough to feel? Sometimes we have to build capacity to let joy in again. If any of this resonates with you, here are a few things to try this week:
Small Ways to Feel More in Numb Times
1. Re-sense a moment. At night, close your eyes and recall one moment from your day. Not just the image—see if you can feel it in your body. Even now, it can land.
2. Speak it inwardly. When something feels good, name it. “This is good. I feel calm. I’m enjoying this.” These small acknowledgments help joy take root.
3. Ask the body, not the mind. Pause and ask: What am I sensing right now? Where do I feel this moment in me? This question brings you home to yourself.
So, if you find yourself wondering, “Did I really feel that day?” you’re not alone. I’m practicing too—noticing the difference between showing up and being fully here.
Sometimes presence takes practice. And sometimes, joy takes courage.
