Hollow

1. Emotional Core

• Numbness — the absence of feeling where you expect sensation or emotion.

• Quiet Detachment — a soft, almost protective distance from your own inner world.

• Gentle Ache — a subtle awareness that something is missing, even if you can’t name it.

2. Somatic Definition (body’s felt sense)

• Stillness — the body feels muted, as if in low-power mode.

• Lightness or Emptiness — a sensation of being “less full” in the chest, belly, or limbs.

• Pause in Energy — movements and reactions feel slowed or delayed.

3. Relational Definition (how it plays out with others)

• Blunted Expression — difficulty accessing enthusiasm, grief, or joy in connection.

• Polite Distance — participating without being fully engaged.

• Invisible Wall — others may sense something’s off but can’t name why.

4. Existential Definition (big-picture emotional truth)

• Protective Absence — the nervous system choosing quiet over overwhelm.

• Interim Space — a liminal pause between the too-much and the not-yet.

• Sacred Waiting — the body making room for a future return.

A Gentle Reminder for When You Feel Hollow

If you find yourself in this quiet space, please know that your hollowness is not emptiness—it's rest. Your nervous system has created this protective pause not because you're failing to feel, but because you've been feeling too much for too long. This gentle numbness is your body's wise way of creating breathing room in a world that often demands more than you can sustainably give.

Hollow doesn't mean broken. It means your system is conserving energy, like a tree in winter that appears lifeless but is actually gathering strength beneath the surface. This interim space—between what was too overwhelming and what hasn't yet emerged—is sacred territory. You're not missing out on life; you're allowing life to recalibrate within you.

It's okay if enthusiasm feels distant right now, if your responses seem muted, if others sense something different about your presence. You don't owe anyone your full emotional range at every moment. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for yourself is to honor this protective absence rather than forcing feelings that aren't ready to surface.

This hollow space is temporary, even when it doesn't feel that way. Your capacity for feeling—for joy, connection, and aliveness—hasn't disappeared; it's simply resting. Trust that your emotional world knows how to return to you when the conditions are right.

Your gentle ache is actually hope in disguise, quietly holding space for your eventual refilling.