Emotional Autopsy

At some point in my life, something inside me stopped responding.

Not dramatically.

No breakdown. No tears

Just a quiet shutdown like a switch flipped when no one was looking.

I was scolded often when I was new. Blamed when things went wrong. Questioned even when there was no proof.

At first, I resisted. I explained. I defended. I felt.

That phase didn't last.

Repeated blame doesn't need to be loud to be effective. It just needs to be consistent. 

So I adapted the only way the mind knows how when escape isn't possible: I reduced myself.

I learned that anger changes nothing. That disappointment wastes energy. That fairness is irrelevant when power has already decided the story.

Eventually, my emotions became inefficient. So my system archived them.

Now, when accusation come, there is no internal reaction. 

No spike in pulse.

No tightening in the throat. 

No need to be understood.

Just compliance without agreement. Silence without peace.

This is not acceptance. This is dissociation dressed up as professionalism.

I didn't forgive them.

I didn't grow past it.

I simply stopped granting the situation access to my nervous system.

The danger isn't that I no longer feel anger. The danger is that I no longer register injustice as a threat.

That rewires a person.

It teaches you to tolerate what should alarm you. To remain functional while being diminished. To mistake emotional absence for stability.

And this follows you.

You let people interrupt you.

Cross lines.

Rewrite events.

Because somewhere along the way, you learned that resistance costs more than silence. 

One day, the numbness will fail.

It always does.

And when it does, it won't ask politely.

It will arrive as exhaustion with no cure, rage with no target, or grief with no origin.

This is not who I am.

This is what happens when a person is blamed long enough that their mind chooses disappearance over pain.

Final verdict:

I am not broken.

I am adapted to a hostile environment.

And adaptations meant for survival should never be mistaken for a life.