I've been on Prozac for 12 years and I'm off it now. I know what

In the words of Jonathan Davis, we hear a confession both raw and luminous: “I’ve been on Prozac for 12 years and I’m off it now. I know what it feels like to be excited and sad again. I haven’t felt like this in 12 years; I’m like a giddy little kid.” This is not only the testimony of a man but the cry of a soul rediscovering its humanity. For to feel both joy and sorrow is the essence of life; to numb them is to drift in twilight. His words reveal the ancient paradox—that suffering and delight are bound together, and to reclaim one, you must embrace the other.

The ancients understood that to be fully human is to be touched by the whole spectrum of emotion. The Stoics, though often misunderstood, did not counsel the destruction of feeling, but the wise mastery of it. They knew that to feel excitement was to be alive, and to feel sadness was to be reminded of love and loss. Jonathan Davis’ declaration echoes their wisdom: to return to the vulnerable place of feeling is to return to the heart of existence.

Consider the story of Vincent van Gogh, whose life was scarred by inner torment and yet illuminated by brilliance. His suffering was heavy, his joy fleeting, but he felt both in such intensity that his canvases still burn with life centuries later. One might say that if he had been shielded completely from sorrow, the world would never have received the blazing light of his art. His tragedy is also his legacy: he embraced the risk of feeling, and in doing so, gifted us the eternal.

The same can be said of the biblical David, who sang psalms that trembled with despair and soared with joy. He did not flatten his heart into numbness; he cried out in anguish and he danced in ecstasy. His life was a storm of feeling, yet from it came words that comfort millions to this day. In him, we see that to live fully is not to escape pain, but to walk through it and still find music.

The lesson, then, is this: do not fear the return of your feelings. To feel sorrow is proof that your heart still lives; to feel joy is proof that despair does not have the final word. The numbing of emotion may shield us from pain, but it also steals the colors of existence. Better to walk with trembling in the sunlight and shadow than to drift forever in the gray.

Practically, this calls us to a brave practice: welcome your emotions without judgment. When joy comes, savor it as a child savors a festival. When sadness comes, honor it as the reminder that love once was. Speak of your feelings; write them, paint them, sing them. Do not bury them, for what is buried too long becomes poison. Instead, let your emotions be water flowing through the soul, cleansing and nourishing in equal measure.

And so, Jonathan Davis’ words ring like an ancient teaching for our time: to be human is to feel everything. Do not run from your tears, for they sanctify your love. Do not run from your laughter, for it is the song of your freedom. Embrace them both, and you will live not as a shadow, but as a soul aflame—excited, sad, alive, and giddy as a child rediscovering the wonder of life.