I don't feel anything for him anymore. Why can't I feel anything? Too strong emotions

I didn't know when it would happen. But he was sure of it. I didn't want to, but I had to. For your safety. For yourself. I didn't want to sleep anymore. I got dressed and went downstairs. Eyes fell on the photo. Hogwarts. Prom. Sirius and Marlene, James and Lily, Remus and Sofia. Me. Seven smiling people looked at me from the coldography. Disgust. Yes, I'm ready to betray. - Loudly, too loudly, as if trying to convince myself, I said. Although, to betray is not the right word, rather to exchange for your life. These people have become strangers to me. I didn't feel anything anymore. I remember at the end of my first year they saved me from the Slytherins. On the second, when I blew up the cauldron, they sat with me all night in the Hospital Wing. I respected them, loved them. I envied. Was nearby. Is always. And now everything has changed. They are nobody to me. I didn't feel anything anymore. A head appeared in the fireplace. Black and Lupin. They probably want to call to the Potters. Yes, they are no longer Remus, Sirius, James and Lily, but Lupine, Black and Potters. They are nobody to me. I know that if I pull any more, it will all be over for me. I won't survive. I know it. People like me never survive. But I fight, and I will always fight. In my own way. The time has not yet come. Let them rejoice, and I will survive. I never understood how you can be happy at a time like this. I never understood them at all. Why was it necessary to chase Filch's cat? Why mock Snape? Snape. He is now stronger than us. He's with the Dark Lord. He won. Order of the Phoenix. I almost didn't feel anything. Only pity for those who have not yet realized that they lost, killed, dead. I walk along the dark corridors of the Order, familiar faces everywhere. They smile and wave their hands. Why are they smiling? Fools. They don't know yet. I betrayed them. He betrayed me at the moment when I felt a pang of jealousy for the first time, when my soul began to gradually rot. In their freshman year, when Potter and Black were able to take off on a broomstick. But not me. Sometimes it seems to me that I will soon drown in the rot that fills me. But I survive. How I can. In my own way. It's very cold at Malfoy Manor. Cold to my rotten soul. Maybe it's not too late to stop. No. I should. For your safety. For yourself. -Well, well, well. - The voice of the Dark Lord penetrates to the bones, climbing into the most remote corners of my consciousness. - Peter, my boy. We are always glad to people who have realized that our policy is stronger. But what can you offer us in exchange for the mark. -Information. My voice didn't waver. Weird. So I definitely don't feel anything anymore. - Order of the Phoenix. I know a lot about him. - Excellent, now go. I will send for you when your help is needed. A sinister smile lit up his face. -Yes my Lord. - I turned around and left. All. It is done. Now I'm almost safe. Nearly. The forest was cold and dark. Unbearably dark. Today is the day I must accept the mark. James, Sirius, and Remus think my aunt is sick, and I'm kneeling in the middle of a cold forest. It's funny. Pain. Pain pierces me all over. Comes the realization that now I'm a traitor. Officially. With the mark, I feel confident, but not here. I remember how we walked through the Forbidden Forest every full moon. Each. I've always been scared. But the realization that I would be rejected by the most popular, cheerful and brave was stronger. Something stirs in my mind. Am I feeling something? No impossible. Marauders. Calm. Strength. These are the associations I had then. Now it's almost the same. Death Eaters. Calm. Strength. The difference is just two words. Total. I must survive. Must. Godric's Hollow. Potter's house. Living room. -A rat has appeared in the Order! - Black walks from corner to corner, waving his arms. "That's the only way to explain why the Death Eaters always end up in the same place as us!" "Poor Molly," whispered Lily, "to lose both brothers!" Sirius is right, we have a rat. Potter agreed. "Maybe one of the new ones," Lupin's voice sounded confident but weak. Yesterday was a full moon. I can see how concerned Sophia is looking at him. I'm getting tired. I get up and go to the kitchen. How right they are. Only not a rat, but a tail. I. Returning, I hear a snippet of conversation. "Perhaps," Sirius and James exclaimed in unison. - Tail, who do you think it is? Lily's voice sounds like it's coming from behind a closed door. I don't want to look at her. But I must. "I don't know." My voice trembled. - I have to go. Affairs. Everyone present stares at me in surprise. Of course. What kind of business can the Tail have? I got up and left. He could no longer be in the same room with them. With people whom he used to idolize, whom he envied. Now they are just a miserable bunch of acquaintances. And that's it. They are nobody to me. I didn't feel anything anymore. My forearm burns, the mark seems to burn the skin on my arm. The Dark Lord wants to see me. - Peter, my boy! - This voice. He will always make his way into the most hidden parts of my consciousness. I want to hide, run away. But I can't, I shouldn't. -Yes my Lord? -I learned about a prophecy that says that there is a boy equal to me. I think it's the Potters' son. Are they your friends? -Yes my Lord. Everything inside is cold. But how so. They are nothing to me anymore. I don't feel anything anymore. - You must know everything about their son. I have to make sure, check everything. Now, go. -Yes my Lord. I am again in this unbearably black forest. I don't want to be here, I can't. And again memories. They overwhelm me. I suffocate in them. I'm drowning. Fifth course. Forbidden Forest. We are all in animal form. On a full moon, we always wander through the forest. Wandered. I feel incredible joy. In the form of a rat, I quickly fell behind the rest of the marauders. My attention was drawn to the movement in the clearing, behind small bushes. I step closer and, holding my breath, peek out from behind the brambles. I have never seen anything more beautiful. It was a girl. Her long silvery hair fell over her eyes, and she sat on an old tree stump, stooping heavily. She was crying, and her hair seemed to be crying with her. The girl was very beautiful. I turned into a man and stepped out from behind the bushes. - Hi, what are you doing here? She shuddered and looked at me. -I got lost. - The girl straightened up, and it seemed to me that her hair had brightened. - Are you Peter? One of the marauders, right? Yes, I was pleased. The first time I was called one of the marauders and not a friend of James, Sirius and Remus. - Come on, I'll accompany you. And suddenly, her hair began to shimmer with all the colors of the rainbow. She must have seen my stunned look and laughed. -I am a metamorph, the girl explained. - What are you doing here? -Yes, so .. -Dawn is coming soon, - she said as if to herself. -What is your name? Because you already know my name. - Anabel. - Her hair turned golden. I fell in love with her at first sight. We were happy. And then. Then she died. Just left this world, leaving me alone. I try to carry out all the orders of my Lord as quickly as possible. Thanks to me, the Pruett brothers died, Longbottoms are in St. Mungo's hospital. And now I'm at the funeral of Marlene McKinnon. Blake is bad. I see it. I wonder if it's as bad as I felt when Anabel died? I've been thinking about her a lot lately. I often think about what would have happened if she were alive. I probably couldn't betray her. I used to love her. Highly. More than anyone. The Potters and Black are standing near the coffin, I should come too. How strange to look at a deathly-pale man, full of life yesterday, and making plans for the future. How strange to realize that he died because of you. Everyone thinks I'm depressed. But it's not. I don't feel anything anymore. Black. He surrounds me. Everywhere. Everywhere I go, I see black and silver-green colors everywhere. I had already forgotten that I was a Gryffindor student, that Lily and James' living room was once red, before Marlene McKinnon died. Stop. Lily and James? Not! They are Potters, only Potters. I return to reality. The graveyard is creepy. Everyone has already dispersed. There were only mages. No one knew the McKinnon family's acquaintances from the Muggle world. The whole family died. Her mother, father, brother. My eyes fell on Black. Hungry, as if graying. She was his bride. He is very ill. I understood this when I saw his aristocratic mask of indifference. I have seen her hundreds of times. I'm sure he's tearing himself apart inside for being late. I know. I was there. She saw him before she died. Blake knows this. He knows what she said then, read her lips. He knew it too well not to read it. No, these were not pleas for help, not a cry full of fear of death. That is why I will never be able to understand her. "Sirius, run." I'm sure he read her thoughts, her feelings, her emotions. James, Lily, Remus and Sofia. ME: Now we're the only ones sitting in this living room. Sirius is not. Neither is Marlene. The Potters wanted him to move in with them. But this is Blake. I think he's sitting at home right now, tearing himself apart with guilt. They talk about something, trying not to touch the present. Reminisce about school years. Prom. At that time we did not know what the future held for us. We knew no grief, no fear, no betrayal. Little Harry flies on a broomstick given to him by Sirius. Too bad he has to die. But I must live. Must. October has come. Cold and rainy. He seemed to foreshadow something bad, terrible. Affairs in the order ceased to interest me. I visited the Potters less and less and spent more and more time at Malfoy Manor. In the mansion, I was treated with disdain, contempt, but nothing. The main thing is to survive. The days were getting shorter, the nights longer. Eaters killed every day, sparing neither women nor children. I got scared. It's only now that I fully realize what I've done. I recently killed Sophia. So, for the entertainment of the eaters. She screamed. Called Remus. But she did not beg, she did not humiliate herself. Are they all like that, they only think about others. It's good that I didn't feel anything anymore. I was afraid of these people. Now I understand my mistake. I began to humiliate myself in front of them. Serve. Godric's Hollow. Living room. I. James, Lily and Sirius. Remus is not. He feels bad. Reminds me of Anabel. Every year there are fewer and fewer of us. One day the moment will come when not even the smallest speck of dust will remain of us. In the meantime, I'm sitting in a grief-stained orange living room. We sit and wait for something. It feels like we're waiting for Remus and Sofia to transgress. And fifteen minutes later, Marlene will appear. And Anabel. Will come with a new hair color. We will live again. To smile. Rejoice. "Dumbledore told me about the prophecy," James abruptly interrupted my daydreams. Do they know? This can be very bad. For the Dark Lord. For me. - He offered a spell of trust. -We agree. - I was surprised at my courage. And I saw that Black agreed with me. - But you must understand that it is very dangerous. "I suggest this." Sirius's eyes sparkled for the first time since McKinnon's death. Like he's about to play some prank. - Put a spell of trust on Pete, and tell my people that it's me. So, if the devourers will hunt, then only for me. -It is very dangerous. Reminds me of Lily. "We know," I replied in unison with Sirius. And for a second I thought we were at Hogwarts. For a couple of weeks I lived in some small village. Nobody came to me. Never. Of course, the Potters had no time for me, but for Black, perhaps half of the Death Eaters are chasing. But this is a weak excuse for those who have been breaking the rules all their lives. I'm lonely again. The hope that had begun to emerge faded away at the speed of a flying Patronus. I got angry. Angry at himself. For marauders. On Voldemort. Angry at everyone. I was deluded. I thought I was starting to feel something again. But no. I was wrong. With Anabel's death, I stopped feeling anything. I do not live. I exist. Clinging to the life passing through me I am nobody, empty space. A pawn in the hands of the Dark Lord. I understand this very well. I live with it, I exist. Forest. The darkness blinded me. I don't see or hear anything. At this moment, I don't exist. I love this feeling. I'm heading to the Dark Lord. Today, on October 31, 1981, the story of the Marauders will end, a story in which I have always felt left out. I am standing in the middle of a huge hall. A chilling voice comes to me from afar. I understand what I did. I passed the Potters. For your life. Of its existence. I turned into a rat. Or rather, I was her. Is always. I am fully aware of what I have done. And remember, they are no one else to me. I don't feel anything anymore. I didn't know when it would happen. But he was sure of it. I had to. For your safety. For yourself. Godric's Hollow. October thirty-first, one thousand nine hundred and eighty-one. A figure in a long black robe appeared at the gate of the house, the hood falling right over the man's eyes. His face was not visible. He moved quickly and quietly, like a shadow. The man walked along the hedge and stopped at a neatly painted door. He muttered something and the door silently opened. It was very warm inside, the TV was on somewhere. It smelled of life, happiness, love. -Who is there? - I heard a male voice. Another second and the man saw in front of him a very young guy with jet-black hair and glasses that had slid to one side. - Hello, James. - His icy voice penetrated to the bones, it seemed that this voice kills everything in its path. “It is not too late to come over to my side and acknowledge the victory of the Death Eaters. -Never! The young man raised his voice, but remained calm. - You chose your own path. -Lily! Run! Save Harry! Green flash. The impact of a lifeless body on the threshold of the house. Someone runs up the stairs. At this point, I always wake up in a cold sweat. Today is no exception. I'm suffocating. And I know I won't sleep again. Every night I have the same nightmare. Sixteen years have passed. I remember everything so well, like it was yesterday. Body knock. Scream Lily. Green flash. Cry. Explosion. The child is alive. Harry Potter. He is now at Malfoy Manor. Right below me. It's good that I don't feel anything. Good. People like me rarely live to old age. Very rarely. I just can't survive another war. Because this time there will be only one winning side. And it will not be eaters. I know. Feel. I don't want to crawl in front of people anymore. I became a rat. tail. Finally. Ever since the night he framed Black. Now he is dead. Marauders became even less. Me and Remus. Only two remained. I wonder for how long? Eyes fell on the photo. Hogwarts. Prom. Sirius and Marlene, James and Lily, Remus and Sofia. Me. Seven smiling people looked at me from the coldography. This photo started the story of my betrayal. Another life full of despair. Could I change everything? Yes. Would you? No. I am disgusted with myself. Only Remus remained. One. I'm no longer a marauder. I ceased to be one from the very moment I looked at this coldography. September thirtieth, one thousand nine hundred and seventy-nine. I remember. I remember every minute of that morning. Muffled sounds come from the dungeon. Holding the photo, I go down. I realized that Harry wanted to run away, to deceive me. I wonder if I release it, will I stop having nightmares? Will I be free? Worth a try. At least somehow repay the Potters and Black, rotting in the graves. I'm coming. I open the door. I stop. From the outside it looks like I'm thinking. But it's not. I look at a young man with jet-black hair, glasses pulled to one side. Just like that night. Harry is the spitting image of a father, but the eyes .. All that he got from Lily is the eyes. Same green. Kind. I catch myself thinking that I don't feel anything anymore. Even now, when the boy is about to run away, and the Death Eaters catch me. I don't feel anything. Could this be a sign of insanity? The boy walks past me. Please, if only the nightmares would stop. Second. I'm suffocating. I can't understand why. Another second and I understand. A hand, my own hand is choking me. A gift from the Dark Lord for my loyalty. That's right, I betrayed him. I must die. I'm pathetic. Will it all end like this? Someone mutters something next to me. Pain, a terrible pain squeezed all over me. Label. She is on fire. I guess the Dark Lord knows everything. Otherwise it wouldn't burn. How pathetic I am. Other people's voices gradually subside. Another second and I lose consciousness. I no longer fight for my life. I don't want to live. I don't want to exist. Perhaps now, in the last second of my worthless life, I remember her. Anabel. Our first meeting. I don't remember the last one. She passed as if in a fog. Yes, I don't want to remember. I used to love her. Is always. I love. Now I understand Marlene and Sofia. Sirius. I understand how it is when at the last moment of your life you think about someone else. Moment. I'm dead. Now I am nobody. I don't feel anything anymore.

Chorus:
I
I don't want to be handsome, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face.

I don't want to be handsome, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face.
I don't want to be handsome, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a machine gun that shoots people in the face.

(fool bullet!)

[Verse 1]:
Jam and the sun on the visor.
In the backpack a poem in their own language (bullet fool!)
In a random bus, I lie into the recorder.
I'm always out of focus, I'm always the background.

Focused like a suicide.
I wander around the city, dreaming of copulation (bullet fool!)
Around senseless whores of both sexes, and
From the wreckage of the clouds - God is like a warhead!

Chorus:

I don't want to be handsome, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a face shooting machine (bullet fool!)

I don't want to be handsome, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a face shooting machine (bullet fool!)
I don't want to be handsome, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a face shooting machine (bullet fool!)

[Verse 2]:
Lonely two-legged, hundred-armed horde.
People smell like soup, like an old woman's mand... whhhh?
Waiting in line at the skin doctor.
I don't feel anything, I don't want any more.

I don't want a hookup, I want Jericho.
On a fool-bullet riding a hungry heretic.
In substandard roll along the avenues wheel.
A lone young man with a bullet wound in his face.

Chorus:
I don't want to be handsome, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a face shooting machine (bullet fool!)
I don't want to be handsome, I don't want to be rich.
I want to be a face shooting machine (bullet fool!)

[Verse 3]:
Shut the gate, cockatoo!
My rap is prayers, only with a razor in my mouth.
I am a miscarriage of the Russian inside out.
In the capital, like rice in the belly of a Vietnamese (fool bullet!)

Jesus Christ ordered baragoz.
And I toast to class holocaust (shu-choo!)
Brothers swallow chuckles.
Daddy's children, collect the guts!

Additional Information

Or a tale about why Monolith shouldn't have made F.E.A.R.2 and rapper Husky.

To bookmarks

"I remember how it all started..."

Back in 2005, like most of the then teenagers, I became interested in magazines about computer games. If, as a rule, it was “Gambling” and “Country of Games”, then I represented the minority, becoming a fan of “PC games”. I don’t know what attracted me to it, maybe a cool logo, maybe the kiosk only had this magazine and “mom, buy it!” worked - and rolled.

The same cover with Alma. The second part of its own cover was not awarded.

Since then, I have not missed almost a single issue until the close of the magazine in 2012. However, since 2006, not everything is so clear. It so happened that instead of one of the new issues, I ended up with an issue from August 2005, where Alma from the first F.E.A.R. was on the cover. And the funniest thing was that the first issue of PC Games that I got was the December 2005 issue, which was a review of this game. How she got me. The shooter received 9.0 from the magazine, the soundtrack received 10.0 in general, and the blood turned cold from some screenshots.

I took up the game itself not immediately, after a couple of years, maybe the computer did not pull (the system requirements for that time were hoo), maybe it was scary because of my youth. However, having already played it, after some time, he was put on the back burner, as far as I remember, in the middle. There were add-ons from Vivendi Games authored by TimeGate, one of which received a good rating in the magazine, the other was weak. But Monolith, the developers of the original, said NOT CANON, and along with Warner Bros. recaptured the franchise rights from Vivendi. In 2009, a "real" sequel was released for their authorship, baptized as a result of a survey, Project Origin. He did not receive my attention at the time of release. Moreover, the first part was still not completed. However, I eagerly ate the laudatory review in the issue and realized that when I did go through the first part, I would definitely go through the sequel. After all, according to the description, everything is better, higher, faster, stronger, and so on and so forth.

Years passed, and only in 2018 I again staged the first F.E.A.R. on computer. Passing it excitedly, I rushed to Steam without stopping to look for Project Origin, but broke off. After reading on Wikipedia about the tricks of the New Disc with the lack of access to the digital version of the game, I bought it on GoG (learning along the way that the price was better there than on Steam) and went to play. Having managed to drop it once, I managed to finish it. Dropping it for the first time, I decided for myself that this is not the game that Monolith should have released. After going through the whole game - the idea only entrenched.

There will be spoilers ahead for games from 12 and 9 years ago, so read at your own risk.

Corridor jester

In the red corner of the ring we have an unnamed Point Man from the first F.E.A.R. and a game about a dead girl and her two sons. I go with trump cards, revealing all the cards, although in general it may not be clear right off the bat.

Released in 2005, F.E.A.R., as it is called on Wikipedia, did not shine with excellent level design. Gray corridors, gray factory slums, gray basements and the like, the meaning is roughly clear. But at the same time, the game was fantastically fascinated by its atmosphere. In these corridors, a crazy play of light and shadow was realized, the player was constantly running out of flashlight, and his opponents were the smartest bots in the history of first-person shooters. Moreover, only one person was responsible for the behavior of the opponents - Jeff Orkin. Moreover, the genius, as it turned out, was in simplicity - he simply made the bots think for themselves and solve problems depending on the player. It is also funny that those who ran to the end of the level, acting on the same principle as the bots, than stealing resources for the game itself, which is demanding.

The fact that the bots are talking to each other makes the player understand that their coordination is intentional. Of course, this is only an illusion and the decision what to say is made after determining their further actions by artificial intelligence.

Jeff Orkin

The AI developer for the original F.E.A.R.

Continuing about the atmosphere, it is worth noting that in the first part it is difficult for you to feel completely safe. Alma's brief appearances make you always feel her somewhere in the corner of your eye, that she will be around the next corner. Or Paxton Vettel will do something and disappear again, as if he never existed.

Whole family to gather.

Additional lore was submitted in the form of messages on answering machines. The player had to go into a dark room with a red light on the phone and wait for information about this or that fact that led to the events of the game to be played. Once there was a moment with a phone just ringing to nowhere, which is impossible to find, and it was frightening and nerve-wracking. F.E.A.R. Definitely not a game for the claustrophobic.

Silence, blood dripping from the ceiling, a telephone rings somewhere nearby...

What about Point Man? This is a comrade who has lived all his life with telepathic abilities, albeit not as strong as his brother's, but nonetheless. He became a representative of a special rapid reaction squad (if we simply decipher the abbreviation from the name), where he was able to fully give expanse to his abilities. However, Slo-mo is a double-edged sword. Although you get an advantage over the enemies and can in a short time have time to accurately stuff them with nails or shot, the image is very blurry, and even more so in battles with mechs or ghost ninjas. Therefore, sometimes, you fly even when you deftly maneuver opponents in slow motion. Despite the cool abilities, Point Man is not omnipotent and the army of clones, powerful mechs, ghostly ninjas forced him to overcome himself and difficulties, he could not be a superhero. Many will remember how to save before each fight, because it could be the last one or to try out with his new tactics in the future. The variety that was bestowed for such a closed space was truly amazing.

Our brave protagonist.

It would seem that everything was appropriate in this shooter - plot drama, powerful shootings, a terrible atmosphere. Weaknesses in the form of level design and bugs could be counted on one hand.

It would seem that Monolith will come with Project Origin and make this formula absolutely absolute, given how much the possibilities have grown in the three years between games.

It would seem that…

Means war…

In the blue corner of the ring we have a dashing Delta Squad representative, Michael Beckett. Superhero, bad motherf***er and just handsome. And a little game about the matured Alma and the consequences of the first part. Well, just a little.

Comrade Beckett.

I must say that it was technical progress and market trends that ruined the F.E.A.R.2 that turned out in the end. It's hard to say if somewhere in the archives of the studio there is the first ideal version, the conditional Oblivion Lost from Monolith (well, you understand, right?), which they liked and would have liked, but the evil Warners said no, we need a war, redo it.

The second part does not know what she wants to be, and she flirts with her abilities. Either it’s Modern Warfare, when you fight hordes of not-so-smart bots (if you change the difficulty level, the bots just take away more health, but do not become more coordinated), then it’s Battlefield 2142, when you get into a huge mech and shoot everyone right and left , and last but not least, it's F.E.A.R. Maybe because the detachment itself is not even in the local database here?

By the way, about the database. This is where the Monoliths decided to move from audio to reading. Scattered across the levels are heaps of discs, folders, files that contain grains of lore that the game is overgrown with. The most funny thing is that you do not read them on the go, but on a pause. Say, now I'll check out what kind of Paxton Fettel it is, and let the whole world wait.

Here, we are not very smoothly approaching Michael Beckett himself. A member of the Harbinger project (which I tried to read throughout the game as HarbRinger, horror), who studied at the Harlan Wade school, but approached the events of the game without superpowers. We get them in the first 30 minutes of playing and, boy oh boy, how does this guy adapt to them. The Slo-mo strip by the end of the game generally takes up almost half the circle around the scope. Opponents are very well highlighted as soon as you activate it, and this has no weaknesses. It's not played up in any way that Beckett received abilities only today, only now, he can already do everything, he is VERY READY. Beckett runs through the levels, not paying attention to anything. Even without including Slo-mo, he will still be the "strongest baby". It is immediately clear that in Delta the level of training is much more patriotic than in F.E.A.R.

The main level of the game is undoubtedly the school of Harlan Wade. Narrow corridors with short outings, creepy visions in Beckett's head, everything is very cool. But on other levels, you don't feel the perfect combination of it all. Again, this is either war or horror, together it seems that it should not and cannot work. And in general, when the game starts with scorched earth and, it seems, the ghost of Alma appears in front of you, and you run forward as if nothing had happened, because it does not tickle your nerves in any way - this is a very strange thing.

At the school level, Alma appears most often.

Shooting enemies has become, of course, more fun. The way they savoryly scatter into jibs is pleasing to the eye. Fights with ghostly ninjas are generally excellent, they appear much more effectively, they die more cheerfully. Everything is smooth, at 60 fps, and even by today's standards it looks as decent as possible. Beckett even has hairy arms. Maybe she ceases to frighten due to the fact that she is, in principle, lighter? Not because of the absence of corridors, but because these corridors, even when they exist, are well lit and do not cause shivering due to the color scheme?

Some of us do not know how to recognize our feelings, so we mistakenly think that we do not experience them.
Attentiveness to one's feelings makes it easier to understand others and makes our life brighter.

"And how do you think I should feel?" - with this question, my 37-year-old friend Lina completed the story of how she quarreled with her husband when he accused her of stupidity and laziness. I thought about it (the word “should” does not fit well with feelings) and carefully asked: “What do you feel?” It was my friend's turn to think. After a pause, she said in surprise: “It seems nothing. Does that happen to you?"

Of course it does! But not when we quarrel with my husband. What I feel at such moments, I know for sure: resentment and anger. And sometimes fear, because I imagine that we will not be able to make peace, and then we will have to part, and this thought scares me. But I remember very well that when I worked on television and my boss shouted at me loudly, I absolutely did not feel anything. Just zero emotion. I was even proud of it. Although it is difficult to call this feeling pleasant.

“No emotion at all? It doesn't happen! objected the family psychologist Elena Ulitova. Emotions are the body's response to changes in the environment. It affects both bodily sensations, and self-image, and understanding of the situation. An angry husband or boss is a rather significant change in the environment; it cannot go unnoticed. Then why don't emotions arise? “We lose contact with our feelings, and therefore it seems to us that there are no feelings,” the psychologist explains.

We lose contact with our feelings, and therefore it seems to us that there are no feelings.

So we just don't feel anything? “Not so,” Elena Ulitova corrects me again. We feel something and can understand it by following the reactions of our body. Has your breathing increased? Forehead covered with perspiration? Were there tears in your eyes? Hands clenched into fists or legs numb? Your body is screaming, "Danger!" But you do not pass this signal into consciousness, where it could be correlated with past experience and called words. Therefore, subjectively, you experience this complex state, when the reactions that have arisen encounter a barrier on the way to their awareness, as the absence of feelings. Why is this happening?

Too much luxury

It is probably more difficult for a person who is attentive to his feelings to step over “I don’t want”? “Obviously, feelings should not be the only basis for making decisions,” clarifies existential psychotherapist Svetlana Krivtsova. “But in tough times, when parents don't have time to listen to their feelings, kids get the hidden message: 'This is a dangerous topic, it can ruin our lives.'

One of the causes of insensitivity is lack of training. Understanding your feelings is a skill that may never be developed.

“For this, a child needs the support of his parents,” Svetlana Krivtsova points out, “but if he receives a signal from them that his feelings are not important, they do not decide anything, they are not taken into account, then he stops feeling, that is, he ceases to be aware of his feelings.”

Of course, adults do not do this maliciously: “This is the peculiarity of our history: for entire periods, society was guided by the principle “not to fat, if I were alive.” In a situation where you have to survive, feelings are a luxury. If we feel, we may be ineffective, not doing what we need to do.”

Boys are often banned from everything that is associated with weakness: sadness, resentment, fatigue, fear.

The lack of time and parental strength leads to the fact that we inherit this strange insensitivity. “Other models fail to assimilate,” the psychotherapist regrets. “As soon as we begin to relax a little, the crisis, default, and ultimately fear again force us to group up and broadcast the “do what you must” model as the only correct one.”

Even a simple question: “Do you want a pie?” for some it is a feeling of emptiness: "I don't know." That's why it's so important for parents to ask questions ("Does it taste good to you?") and honestly describe what is happening to the child ("You have a temperature", "I think you are afraid", "You might like this") and to others. (“Dad gets angry”).

Dictionary Oddities

Parents build the foundations of a vocabulary that, over time, will allow children to describe and understand their experiences. Later, children will compare their experiences with the stories of other people, with what they see in films and read in books ... In the vocabulary we have inherited, there are also forbidden words that are better not to use. This is how family programming works: some experiences are approved, others are not.

“Each family has its own programs,” continues Elena Ulitova, “they may differ depending on the gender of the child. Boys are often forbidden everything that is associated with weakness: sadness, resentment, fatigue, tenderness, pity, fear. But anger, joy, especially the joy of victory are allowed. In girls, it’s more often the other way around – resentment is allowed, anger is forbidden.”

In addition to prohibitions, there are also prescriptions: girls are prescribed patience. And they forbid, accordingly, to complain, to talk about their pain. “My grandmother liked to repeat: “God endured and commanded us,” recalls 50-year-old Olga. - And the mother proudly told that during childbirth she "did not make a sound." When I gave birth to my first son, I tried not to scream, but I did not succeed, and I was ashamed that I did not meet the “set bar”.

Call by their names

By analogy with the way of thinking, each of us has our own "way of feeling" associated with the belief system. “I have the right to some feelings, but not to others, or I have the right only under certain conditions,” explains Elena Ulitova. - For example, you can be angry with a child if he is guilty. And if I believe that he is not to blame, my anger can be forced out or change direction. It can be directed at yourself: "I'm a bad mother!" All mothers are like mothers, but I can't comfort my own child.

Anger can hide behind resentment - everyone has normal children, but I got this one, yelling and yelling. “The creator of transactional analysis, Eric Berne, believed that feelings of resentment did not exist at all,” recalls Elena Ulitova. - This is a "racket" feeling; we need it to use it to force others to do what we want. I’m offended, so you should feel guilty and somehow make amends.”

If you constantly suppress one feeling, then others weaken, shades are lost, emotional life becomes monotonous.

We are able not only to replace some feelings with others, but also to shift the range of experiences on a plus-minus scale. “One day I suddenly realized that I didn’t feel joy,” admits 22-year-old Denis, “it snowed, and I think:“ It will become slushy, it will be slushy. The day began to increase, I think: “How long to wait, so that it becomes noticeable!”

Our “image of feelings” indeed often gravitates towards joy or sadness. “The reasons may be different, including a lack of vitamins or hormones,” says Elena Ulitova, “but often this condition occurs as a result of upbringing. Then, after realizing the situation, the next step is to give yourself permission to feel.

It's not about having more "good" feelings. The ability to experience sadness is just as important as the ability to rejoice. It is about expanding the spectrum of experiences. Then we won't have to invent "pseudonyms", and we will be able to call feelings by their proper names.

Feelings and time

This tip will help you deal with your feelings. Being related to "its" time, the feeling helps to solve the problem. Otherwise, it masks another feeling.

sadness says that it is necessary to say goodbye to something, to grieve about something, forget it, or, conversely, turn it into a memory.

Fear urges us to provide protection against possible danger.

Anger - a signal that my boundaries have been violated and they must be defended right now.

Resentment does not help in this case.

Joy outside of time: you can rejoice about what was, what is now or will happen in the future. It helps us to enjoy life at all time intervals.

Too strong emotions

It would be wrong to think that the ability to "turn off" feelings always arises as a mistake, a defect. Sometimes she helps us. At the moment of mortal danger, many experience numbness, up to the illusion that "I'm not here" or "everything is happening not to me." Some "feel nothing" immediately after the loss, left alone after separation or death of a loved one.

“Here it is not the feeling as such that is forbidden, but the intensity of this feeling,” explains Elena Ulitova. “A strong experience causes a strong excitation, which in turn turns on a protective inhibition.” This is how the mechanisms of the unconscious work: the unbearable is repressed. Over time, the situation will become less acute, and the feeling will begin to manifest itself.

The mechanism for disconnecting from emotions is provided for emergency situations, it is not designed for long-term use.

We may be afraid that some strong feeling will overwhelm us if we let it out and we will not be able to cope with it. “I once broke a chair in a rage and now I am sure that I can cause real harm to the person with whom I am angry. Therefore, I try to be restrained and not give vent to anger, ”admits 32-year-old Andrei.

“I have a rule: don’t fall in love,” says 42-year-old Maria. “I fell in love with a man once, and of course he broke my heart. Therefore, I avoid attachments and am happy.” Maybe it's not bad if we give up feelings that are unbearable for us?

Why feel

The mechanism for disconnecting from emotions is provided for emergency situations, it is not designed for long-term use. If we constantly suppress one feeling, then others weaken, shades are lost, emotional life becomes monotonous. “Emotions testify that we are alive,” says Svetlana Krivtsova. – Without them it is difficult to make a choice, to understand the feelings of other people, which means it is difficult to communicate. Yes, and the experience of emotional emptiness in itself is painful. Therefore, it is better to re-establish contact with "lost" feelings as soon as possible.

So the question "How should I feel?" better than a simple "I don't feel anything." And, surprisingly, there is an answer to it - “sadness, fear, anger or joy.” Psychologists argue about how many "basic feelings" we have. Some include in this list, for example, self-esteem, which is considered innate. But everyone agrees about the aforementioned four: these are feelings that are inherent in us by nature.

So I will suggest that Lina correlate her condition with one of the basic feelings. Something tells me that she will choose neither sadness nor joy. As in my story with the boss, I can now admit to myself that I felt anger at the same time as a strong fear that prevented anger from manifesting.

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