“When I Can’t Feel My Body, My Roots, or God: A Personal Reflection on Disconnection and the Search for Home”

I. I’ve Been Feeling Lost

There are days when I feel like I’m floating — not in a peaceful, meditative way, but in a way that feels like my spirit has no anchor. My body is here, moving through the world, but I’m not fully in it. My mind feels far away. My emotions feel distant. I watch life happening, but I don’t always feel like I’m in it.

And maybe the hardest part of it all is…

I don’t know where I belong.

II. Disconnected from My Body

I know this body has carried me through grief, through trauma, through so much survival.

But lately, I can’t feel it the way I used to.

Some days it feels numb. Other days, it’s on fire with anxiety.

My breath feels shallow.

My hunger feels muted.

Touch feels foreign.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and don’t fully recognize who I am.

And I ask myself:

How can I heal if I can’t even land in my own body?

III. Disconnected from My Roots

I carry names I don’t fully understand.

My ancestors feel close and far at the same time.

I know their blood runs through me — Sarita, Josephine, the Broadnax and Dawson lines — but I can’t always feel them. I don’t know all the stories. Some were never told. Some were buried in silence. Some were stolen.

And sometimes I grieve that — deeply.

Because without my roots, I feel like I’m swaying in a storm, trying to remember who I am.

IV. Disconnected from God

Then there’s God.

There are moments when I cry out and feel nothing but echo.

There are nights when I ask, “Where are You?”

And mornings when I wonder if God’s silence is absence… or invitation.

I know what faith feels like — I’ve felt it before. But lately, even prayer feels hollow.

Even worship feels like reaching into air.

I don’t say this to be dramatic. I say it to be honest.

Because I know I’m not the only one.

V. And Yet… My Soul Still Longs

Despite all this disconnection — from body, from lineage, from Spirit — something inside me still wants.

Wants to feel again.

Wants to be held.

Wants to remember.

Wants to belong.

Wants to believe.

And I believe that longing… is a kind of faith.

Because if I can feel longing, that means there is still something to return to.

Still something calling me home.

VI. Coming Home, Gently

I don’t have all the answers. But I’m learning that healing doesn’t always look like power — sometimes it looks like stillness. Like rest. Like crying in the shower. Like whispering to your ancestors even when you don’t know what to say.

Some days, I place my hand on my heart and say:

“Body, I’m trying.”

“Ancestors, I’m listening.”

“God… I’m here.”

And maybe that’s enough for now.

VII. If You’re Here Too…

If you feel disconnected… I see you.

If you feel rootless… I honor you.

If you feel spiritually exiled… I walk beside you.

This blog isn’t about offering a solution.

It’s about reminding us both that disconnection doesn’t mean defeat.

Sometimes, it’s the soul’s way of preparing to come back home.

And when we do return — to ourselves, to our lineages, to God —

We do so with reverence.

With softness.

And with sacred truth.

– Latrina Lee Lee Dawson

A daughter of Sarita. A seeker of wholeness. A voice rising from the in-between.