vulnerable vs impenetrable

Last night on FB, I got a popup from a good friend of mine: Edy. I knew him back in college and, more important, he knew me. We've recently reconnected and have been chatting pretty often since. He asked how I was, and I said okay.

Just ok?
Yeah. Ok.
Y?

From there, it was eye-opening to a point. I knew where I was and why. What I didn't know was how this affected others. It isn't anything big; I just don't let things reach me lately. He said it was sad because I was one of the most loving people he'd met and that my unusually high sensitivity made it obvious.

We talked about that. I used to be a lot more sensitive and emotional than this. If you have been following my blog, however, you know that many things happened to change that; when you are bleeding, your first goal is to stop the flow.

Stopping the flow of pain in my life is easy. Always has been. I tried to avoid it because the side effects suck. Numbness. I feel no sadness, but happiness is lost to me as well except for fleeting moments.

Sigh.

The sad part is that I almost don't want it undone. I want to stay this mostly unfeeling and immovable person and not be affected by anything at all, but in this conversation with Edy, I sense God trying to bring me back home. Maybe Edy will be that channel.

I remember when I said there is a lot I keep inside. His immediate response was: "tell it to me."

It was nice to talk to him and know he cares. Now I wonder what to do, but only mildly. Mostly because the walls have already gone up. Automatic defenses set up to "protect" myself. It's like blocking by sense instead of by sight. That's where I am: I instinctively put a barrier on front of things that irritate me on any level. My mind and heart and bonded into an impenetrable fortress. No one can reach me without my consent.

This was supposed to be good.