Numb or Peace?

I’ve been told beginner’s mind, not knowing mind, responding to the world with openness, like a child is a way to follow Christ. But sometimes I wonder if we can be too quiet, suppressing legitimate angers or sadnesses. When I walk, I try to tell God what’s going on or pray for a few friends. Out loud because if I don’t talk, I’ll forget how. I fear I’m forgetting how.

But often I fall to silence. When my thoughts wander, I was taught to pull them back to a centering word and so I do. Mine is “Thank you Lord.” My mind needs the break. Those walks feel like lying down for a nap. Aiden has learned to walk by my side companionably. Those walks are peaceful except when the dogs see a deer or a rabbit. I shiver a bit because if the dogs got away from me, I’d lose them. These walks have been like a good wind blowing away the brain fog.

But I wonder if centering prayer can suppress thoughts we need to think. Or block things the Lord might want us to know. Occasionally I’ve had to pull out Google Keep to write words I used later for one of these posts because the creative magic was working. Have I numbed myself, am I avoiding anger, grief, or have I truly found the presence of God?

Then while scrolling in Substack—I don’t get very far–in The Good Girl Recovery Guide I came across “Eight Subtle Signs You May be Dissociated” by Maria Cassano. She will be releasing her memoir Numb Party of One this fall. In order to survive she numbed herself in response to her brother’s bipolar illness and eventual suicide. She defines some characteristics of dissociation:

“From mindless scrolling, to getting lost in thought, to multitasking, to numbing out with food, alcohol, or substances, dissociation reflects a natural human tendency to mentally ‘step away’ from the present moment,” said Rebecca Kase, LCSW.¹

Well, heck that sounds like me. I found myself in all eight:

You are the most productive capable person you know. (Well, that was me when I worked.) You constantly lose track of time. You have a terrible memory. You feel like you’re living in a dream. You intellectualize your emotions rather than feeling them. You have a high tolerance for pain. You struggle to maintain boundaries. You feel like a stranger to yourself. ²

Sara Szal in Are You Dissociated, I Was? writes about how she was dissociated and how she found her way out through extensive therapy. She traced it back to childhood trauma. She lists a quick self check:

highway hypnosis: realizing you don’t remember part of a drive, half-heard: missing part of what someone just said; Unreal world: people or surroundings feel far away; watching yourself: feeling like you’re watching yourself act; Not your body: a sense that your body isn’t quite yours; mirror stranger: not recognizing your own face for a moment; Lost time: losing track of how much time has passed; two different people, feeling like two different selves. ³

Yup sounds like me.  I stiff upper lipped it when each of my family members died which prompted a long walk through grief. The other day I left the gate open, when it’s routine to shut it and Mrs Horse got out. Fortunately, she followed me back into the barn despite the ruckus Mrs Dog caused when she slipped out the door at the same time.

Isn’t it a cop out to say “Lord Jesus Christ son of the living God have mercy on me a sinner” rather than feeling the anger or grief or even joy? I’ve noticed I start praying for people instead of talking to God about what I’m thinking or feeling. Wouldn’t it be better to let God know me, the God who searches our hearts, the one who made us? But honestly there are days all I have is a quiet thank you.

And there are days I wake up afraid—when will some nasty malady or just plain aging call for packing up and walking away from this farm? Or when will the half of this country driven by the politics of envy, grow in their malice and take everything as they did in Mao’s China and Bolshevik Russia, Jacobin France and Revolutionary Iran? As they are doing in France and Spain. I guess I walk out on the road and tell God.

The Psalms have been the prayer book of the church for thousands of years. They articulate emotions from “my God, my God why have you forsaken me,” to “this is the day the Lord has made let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 69 screeches, “I am sinking in deep mire…I have grown weary with crying…those who hate me without cause are more than the hairs of my head…”

But this definition of dissociation seems so broad that anyone could find themselves ticking off each point saying, “That’s me. Oh that’s me too.” Seems to be we live in the age of the endless scroll and distraction, so we can lose time and memory. Putting dissociation as a label for a good work ethic and staying calm in a crisis also troubles me. People can also overindulge their emotions.

I can return from my walk calm and collected, but then Aiden grabs a favorite stuffed toy and rips it, and I screech at him. Somewhere I read that in a monastery the irritating monk is a gift showing us our spiritual weakness. The Dalai Lama has said our enemies are our greatest gifts. Aiden does that well. Above all with him, I need deep breaths and calm or he becomes frantic, circling. Our quiet evening becomes one big circle. But he calms as I quiet.

Well, since I don’t have a pastor handy, I asked Charlyne my question: Are we numbing ourselves or truly finding God’s peace. She said if you feel peace, then you feel peace. Don’t question it. It’s from God.

Stephen Freeman in his post, talks about being numb. He says.

Those who think on the ugliness of the world, or the rumors of terrible things and intentions, are, in fact, sleeping. It is a sleep that lulls us into a despair that will make shipwreck of our faith in ways that we cannot imagine.⁴

He reminded me of what St. Seraphim of Savoy says,

There is a reason that St. Seraphim of Sarov says, “Acquire the Spirit of Peace and thousands around you will be saved.”⁵

It’s that peace I want because I long for the thousands around me to be saved. As a girl I used to think I could argue people into salvation, but if it worked, that was only by the grace of God, working in that person’s life, that maybe the word that doesn’t return void landed. I remember an impassioned discussion with a high school friend, who I think was an atheist. Some years later I came across his book about Catholic spirituality called A Way in the World written by this very same gentleman. That crazy evangelical arguing might have laid a seed.

And I also think of the gritty hymn that tells of the martyrdom of the disciples.

1 They cast their nets in Galilee,
Just off the hills of brown;
Such happy, simple fisherfolk, 
Before the Lord came down,
Before the Lord came down.

2 Contented, peaceful fishermen, 
Before they ever knew
The peace of God that filled their hearts
Brimful, and broke them too,
Brimful, and broke them too.

3 Young John, who trimmed the flapping sail, 
Homeless in Patmos died.
Peter, who hauled the teeming net,
Head down was crucified,
Head down was crucified.

4 The peace of God, it is no peace, 
But strife closed in the sod.
Yet, let us pray for but one thing:
The marv’lous peace of God, 
The marv’lous peace of God.⁶

I’ve thought of this often. What kind of joy gave these men, and other martyrs the willingness to go to their deaths, often by torture. Some were hard to kill. Lord knows if it comes to martyrdom, I pray I have the joy or peace of eyes full of Jesus, to by Him, to stand firm. Let me say again, “The peace of God, it is no peace, but strife closed in sod. Yet let us pray for but one thing: The marv’lous peace of God.”

This week, the air broke crisp, clean and cold. The corn still stands, walls around the neighborhood. Harvest is coming. But for now, I kinda like seeing those dried rows, with flaccid ears, standing by as I walk towards the sun in the morning. The other day a rainbow showed up north of us, just a bar of colored light. I called Bruce on the phone to come look as it was behind the shed. The sun is coming and going too quickly. But has given us some glory in the late afternoon light cast across the yard and onto the barn. Despite the brisk air, he warms my cheeks when I walk out of the shadows.

Works Cited

1 Maria Cassano. Eight Subtle Signs You May Be Dissociated, According to Therapists. Good Girl Recovery Guide. June 29, 2026.

2 Ibid

3 Sara Szal. Are You Dissociated? I Was. The Female Edge. June 14, 2026

4 Stephen Freeman. As The End Draws Near Silence. July 8, 2026

5 Ibid

6 William Alexander Percy. Hymnary.org  They Cast Their Nets in Galilee