Numb, But Not Forgotten: When Grief Leaves You Feeling Nothing

There’s a part of grief no one really talks about—the part where it’s not gut-wrenching or tearful, but just… empty. When the initial waves of loss have passed and the sharp edges of pain begin to dull, what’s left is often a hollow stillness, a kind of emotional void that makes everything feel muted. This is the stage of grief where you start wondering: “Am I still grieving? Or have I just lost the part of me that used to feel?”

That’s how it’s been lately. I’m not in denial, I’m not angry, and I don’t even feel the deep sadness that usually comes with mourning. I just feel blank, like I’m drifting through the days, waiting for something to break through. It’s confusing and disorienting, and it makes me question if there’s something wrong with me. Shouldn’t I be feeling something? Where did all the pain go?

When the Bible Speaks Through the Numbness

Despite feeling this way, I’ve kept up with my Bible study. It’s a habit I’m holding onto, even when it feels like I’m just going through the motions. And strangely enough, it’s in these numb moments that Scripture seems to speak the loudest. Recently, I found myself in Romans 8, reading, “For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groaning too deep for words” (Romans 8:26).

That verse hit me hard. Even when I’m too numb to pray, too drained to put my emotions into words, the Holy Spirit is praying for me. He’s taking my wordless sighs, my aching groans, and turning them into prayers that God hears. It’s like God is saying, “I see you. I know your heart is tired. I’m carrying this for you.” It made me realize that numbness doesn’t mean I’m cut off from God. It just means I’m in a place where He’s doing more than I can feel right now.

Maybe this numbness is part of the waiting. Romans 8 talks about waiting with perseverance, but what does perseverance look like when you’re just numb? Am I supposed to just hold on until I feel something again? Is God using this empty space to shape something deeper in me?

Why Does Numbness Happen in Grief?

Numbness is more common than we think, especially after cycling through the intense emotions of denial, anger, or sadness. It’s like your emotions have been running on overdrive, and now they’ve hit a wall. When you’re emotionally exhausted, it’s as if your heart can’t take any more, and in response, your body and mind shut down to protect you from further pain. You end up feeling detached, empty, or like you’re just going through the motions.

This stage of numbness can also be a form of “emotional waiting,” where you’re subconsciously holding back from fully accepting or confronting the depth of your loss. It’s not a sign of a lack of love or care—it’s your heart’s way of saying, “I need a break from all the pain.” As Tony Evans puts it, “God will meet you where you are in order to take you where He wants you to go” . Maybe this place of numbness isn’t a mistake—it’s just where God has me for now.

John Piper offers another perspective: “The magnificence of [Job’s] worship was because it was in grief, not because it replaced grief” . If even Job’s numbness and pain could be worship, then maybe I don’t have to wait until I “feel” something to trust God in this. Maybe being honest about my numbness is its own kind of faith.

What to Do When You’re Numb in Grief

So what do you do when you’re just numb? Sometimes, the best thing you can do is to just be—to let yourself sit with the emptiness without trying to force yourself to feel something different. But I’ve found that a few small acts of self-care can help ease the fog:

Ground Your Body When Your Heart is Still

I’ve started taking short walks around my neighborhood, just to feel my feet hit the ground. Some days it feels pointless, but I do it anyway. Tim Keller said, “You don’t really know Jesus is all you need until Jesus is all you have” . Sometimes, I think that’s what these small acts of faith are about—reminding ourselves that we’re still here, still moving, still holding on.

• Hold Onto God’s Promises, Even When They Feel Far Away:

  When emotions run dry, the only thing I can cling to is what I know to be true, not what I feel. Verses like Psalm 46:1—“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble”—keep me anchored . On days when I can’t pray, I just whisper that verse. It’s the only prayer I have some days.

• Create a Simple Routine:

  Keeping a routine has been a lifeline. I wake up, make my bed, and open my Bible—even if it’s just to read a single verse. Those tiny habits remind me that life goes on, even when I feel stuck.

• Rest in His Love When You Feel Nothing:

  Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” . If He’s near to the brokenhearted, then He must be near to the numb-hearted, too. I’m choosing to believe that, even if I can’t feel Him right now.

Is God Still Here When I Can’t Sense Him?

It’s hard to navigate a season when you don’t know what you’re feeling—or if you’re feeling anything at all. But God is still present. He sees every tear that hasn’t been shed, values every broken moment, and knows when your soul needs rest more than your mind can express. You’re not alone in the numbness because His love remains steady, even when you can’t sense it.

So here’s where I am: numb, tired, but choosing to show up anyway. I’m choosing to believe that He’s still working in this silence, still holding me when I can’t feel a thing. Because in the end, isn’t that what faith is? Trusting in what we can’t see, what we can’t sense, what we can’t feel—and believing that God is still good, still present, still for us.

If you’re here in this same numb space, know this: you’re not forgotten. The emptiness doesn’t mean God’s abandoned you. His presence is steady, even when it’s not felt. You’re not alone in the silence, and every moment you choose to believe, even without emotion, is a victory. Keep holding on to His promises. He’s holding onto you

Reflection Question:

Have you ever felt torn between sadness and joy, struggling to find God’s presence in the chaos? What has helped you keep going when it feels like the pain will never end?

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