Alexi- what?

On my first visit to Dr. Goodheart, I was trying very hard to explain how I felt about something, and I just couldn't get it out.

"Well, that's because you have alexithymia," he said.

Alexi-what????

(Meanwhile, thinking: "He knows things I don't know! He knows what's wrong with me!")

He explained that it means I don’t know the words to describe what I’m feeling. The cause? Well, growing up I wasn’t allowed to have my own mind; not really allowed to feel anything. I learned so early in life that my feelings were wrong that I never learned to put a name to them.  
 
At home again, I go straight to my computer. The first hit is a quiz--you click on the buttons; they calculate your score. I'm in a hurry, and not ready to dive into research, so I settle in, answering questions to the extent of "not knowing how to describe what you're feeling." But the other questions confuse me: "Has someone ever told you that you don't seem to understand what they're feeling?" "Do others often comment that you seem to have no emotions?"

What the heck? This doesn't sound like me at all! 

Despite answering "no" to all such questions, the quiz determines that I'm highly likely to have alexithymia. I'm convinced.

Later, I meet with a friend, and tell her all about it.

When I mention the seemingly bizarre quiz questions, she stops. Of course, I have to know what she's thinking. "Have I ever done something insensitive like that--where you're frustrated because I don't get what you're feeling?" I ask. "Well, I remember once when you were at my house. I was trying to get the kids to bed, and...you kept talking to me. I just assumed it was because you didn't know what it was like to have kids."

I loved her for her sweet assumption, but my image of myself began cracking.

"Do you know what I'm feeling right now?" she asked. And I had to admit that I had no clue. Even after she told me, I still couldn't have guessed, although I could have described her behavior as compared to when I'd last seen her.

I took the story to Dr. Goodheart at my next session.

He nodded wisely. "It's surprising, isn't it?"

"Am I really that insensitive?" I asked, dreading the answer. How could I not understand other people, but at the same time care so much about them that I failed to care for myself?

Fortunately, he was quick to reassure me that there were other factors involved--that it was so much for complicated than that.

I thought about feelings and how, for as long as I could remember, I'd probably answer the honest question: "How are you feeling?" with “I feel depressed.”

"But depression isn’t a feeling, it’s an illness; a mood disorder! It’s like saying “I feel cancerous!” I suddenly realized.

The doctor smiled. "Now you can say, 'I feel alexithymic!'" he said.

What a way to smash all my illusions about myself!