Back in May, I started a new medication intended to eliminate chronic pain. Since I’d dealt with this pain for over 30 years, its exit from my life was so elating that it took some time to notice the drug’s unfortunate side effects, the most pressing of which has been the eradication of my emotions (or rather my positive/productive emotions, as blistering rage seems to be doing just fine). Other feelings, however – like joy, anticipation, curiosity, and determination – were apparently lined up and executed one by one.

My sister was first to point out the change. During a visit in early August, she mentioned that I seemed pretty bummed, which was strange since summer is usually my “happy time.” She also reminded me that I could talk to her about whatever was going on. The problem was that I had no idea what was going on, but I did know that talking about myself had gotten progressively difficult, as if I needed to reach down my throat to pull up the words. It still feels that way – like I’ve swallowed everything I need to say, and it’s all stuck down in my gut.

On the rare occasion that emotions do reveal themselves, they’re severely delayed. Last week, I found out that my dad had to have an emergency heart procedure, and I handled the news like a 1940s lobotomy patient. However, a couple of days after his (successful, thank goodness) surgery, I looked up to see my old dog gazing out the window and burst into tears.

The sob-fest wasn’t truly for Jasper, of course, as cute as he is. It was all about Dad, aging, mortality, loss, love, and fear. The disconnect was easy enough to detect – this isn’t my first rodeo when it comes to emotional derailment – and since I am savvy in that department, I’ve had many years to develop endurance strategies for times like this.

Rule Number One = DON’T ADD TO THE PROBLEM. While in a bout of depression during my first year of college, I took a class called Evil in the 20th Century. Essentially, I read about the Holocaust and Khmer Rouge for a full month. Here’s what I learned: if you feel like shit, don’t immerse yourself in horror. Do positive things. Along those lines, while I’m in this state of emotional death, I’ve decided to expand my vocabulary (I even have flashcards), read lots of books, walk a ton, and take edX classes (current: Humanity and Nature in Chinese Thought). Ideally, when I emerge from this place, I’ll find myself physically healthy and a little bit smarter.

A few months from now, the drug will be out of my system. The emotional wellspring will refill, the words will flow from my gut back to my throat, and I will awaken at last to feel something more than: 😐 In a dull, understated way, I look forward to that time.