I’m 38 and I’m never truly happy and never truly sad — and somewhere in my early thirties I started suspecting that the flatness wasn’t a problem with me, it was the muscle memory of a childhood where big feelings cost more than they were worth, and the body has been quietly dimming the dial ever since
The person functions well. They work. They maintain relationships. They laugh at the right moments. They rarely fall apart publicly. They are not obviously depressed. Not obviously anxious. Not obviously struggling. And yet, internally, something feels strangely muted. The highs never fully arrive. The lows never fully break through either. Life happens, but it often … Read more