I Recovered at 47.

I was highly alexithymic for most of my life. Like many people who struggle to identify their emotions, I assumed I was on the autism spectrum. Because I could generally get by in the world, I never bothered trying to get an official diagnosis.

That all changed after I underwent surgery to remove my giant tonsils and a damaged uvula (the dangly thing in the back of the throat). They were causing extremely severe sleep apnea, completely wrecking my sleep quality.

Once I recovered from the surgery, everything began to shift. Specifically, I began to shift.

I discovered that I actually possess emotional empathy, not just cognitive empathy. Previously, I could only intellectually put myself in someone else’s shoes to approximate what they must be feeling. Now, I can look at a person and—without any external context—literally feel a reflection of their emotions inside myself.

The emotional recovery process was an absolute roller coaster. It felt like my old identity was dying. The self I used to describe as functional and logical completely fell away. I didn’t understand why I was morphing into a completely different person, and neither did the people around me (though my partner at the time was thrilled that I was finally capable of deep emotional connection).

For about 18 months, I started drinking, and I would sit alone and cry every single night. I was processing a lifetime of suppressed loss that I previously never had access to. Strangely, I had a big, stupid grin on my face through the tears because I was just so profoundly grateful to finally feel sad for the things I had missed and lost.

I won’t write a novel here, but I wanted to share this because I realize I’m in a unique position. Having lived on both sides of the river, I now understand what it’s like to be completely cut off from emotions, and what it’s like to suddenly feel everything.

I think I do have have CPTSD, left over from navigating a dangerous world while numb to damage. I have no startle reflex and witness other tell tale signs.

I would love to contribute an article like this beautiful story. I’m glad I’m not the only story of recovery.