The Day I Was Arrested: Strange Absence of Feeling

Am I real? Do I exist? I can't see anything and I feel nothing. Oh well....keep going...the next performance is about to start.

The Day I Was Arrested: Strange Absence of Feeling

It started as a normal day.

I woke up early. Hit the gym. Arrived at work before most people had even switched on their computers. I was prepared to finish late — like always. That was the rhythm of my life: disciplined, focused, productive…depressed.

I was tired, but that didn’t matter.

Tired wasn’t a reason to stop.

I could still hear the voices in my head — the ones that pushed me through training, through exhaustion, through everything:

“Your mind will give up before your body.”

“Don’t let your mind play tricks on you.”

“Keep going.”

“Don’t show any weakness”

And so I did.

Until I couldn’t.

—

When the officers took me into a quiet room “ to chat,” I didn’t feel fear.

I didn’t feel panic.

I felt nothing.

Only confusion.

—

They drove me to my flat.

Still, I felt nothing.

Just confusion.

—

I was processed at the station.

Photographed. Searched. Logged.

Still, I felt nothing.

Just confusion.

—

I was led to a cell.

The door closed behind me.

Nothing.

Silence – a quiet relief. Why did I suddenly feel safe? I hadn’t felt a feeling like this in ages.

—

I was questioned.

I said nothing. I was advised to say “no comment” by the duty solicitor — whose only real advice was to find Jesus.

I wasn’t sure how Jesus could help me process what was happening, but I took the silence instead.

The confusion had gone. Felling nothing remained.

No anger. No sadness. No fear.

Back to the cell. Back to my happy place. The first peace I had felt in years. 

—

When my dad arrived to pick me up, the wall cracked.

I cried.

Hard.

It was the first emotion I’d felt in years. And it terrified me.

After so long spent feeling nothing, to feel something — anything — was too much. It was like being shocked awake in the middle of a dream you didn’t know you were having.

Was I human again? Was this what feeling felt like?

I didn’t know. But the tears felt real.

—

People assumed that moment — the arrest, the cell, the release — would have changed something.

But truthfully?

Nothing really changed.

I was already depressed. Already suicidal. Already gone, in many ways.

I didn’t wake up the next day feeling different.

I woke up the same.

I brushed my teeth. Got dressed. Breathed in. Breathed out.

The only real difference was now, I felt like I had to carry other people’s emotions too.

Because I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel, I started borrowing how others might react.

“How would someone else respond if this happened to them?”

“What would they say?”

“What does ‘shock’ look like?”

“What does shame sound like?”

And I wore those reactions like costumes — hoping they’d make me feel something real.

They didn’t.

Not then.

—

Now, after my diagnosis, things make more sense.

Back then, I didn’t know I was autistic.

I didn’t know why I struggled to feel my own emotions, or why I tried so hard to mirror other people’s reactions in an attempt to appear normal.

I didn’t understand why I felt more confused than scared. Or why I fell apart when everything was finally over — not during.

But I understand more now.

Not everything.

But enough to know I wasn’t broken.

Just misunderstood.

Even by myself.

—

The day I was arrested didn’t break me.

It started my journey and I am so grateful to 3 specific individuals who have supported me on my way (you know who you are - “Thank you”. 

The journey didn’t start in one dramatic flash. But slowly, over time. 

And maybe that’s what real awakening looks like.

Not panic. Not certainty.

Just… confusion, followed by questions.

And eventually, if you’re lucky, the start of clarity.

Discovering who you are takes time. I am 376 days into my journey and I have only recently started to feel like it’s beginning. 

I’m not sure I’m alive yet. But I know I exist. I am real.