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.

What if emotional baggage we carry isn’t really our core issue?
Here’s the jobs growth Obama promised—in federal workers
Regardless of political beliefs, why does anyone watch Bill O’Reilly?
Angry reactions to others can make us wrong even when we’re right
What do you love enough to want once more before life slips away?
In the old Ginger or Mary Ann debate, I wanted a third choice
Deadly sugar-filled diet choices mean slow suicide for millions
Smart people will flee big cities before death, disease take over