I have intense feelings and I don’t have any choice but to share them. That’s just the way I’m wired. I love powerfully. I hurt deeply. I experience joy with open exuberance.
I don’t hide my feelings well. If you’re paying any attention at all, you know where you stand with me, because I wear my heart on my sleeve.
But there are times — very rare times — when everything feels numb. When that happens, it means that some part of me — maybe a little part or maybe a big part — has finally died after an extended period of intense pain. It happens without warning, although it’s always predictable in retrospect.
I went numb today. It feels like walking in a driving rainstorm without an umbrella — and not caring what anybody else thinks.

Trivial distractions keep us from focusing on love and connection
Personal growth feeds a romance, but lack of honesty destroys love
Lucy’s fun afternoon at my office reminds me that work needs play
I’m a liar — and you are, too; most of all, we lie to ourselves
Patterns that made old mistakes keep us making same old errors
Humans are impatient, but changes in Alabama show speed of change
Trump’s rabid defenders selling their souls for a narcissistic liar
Cult’s targeting of family funeral points to folly of speaking for God