I once was lost but now I’m dissociated…

I made it to Cali and back. The trip was okay. The lines at Knott’s were long and the kids were being annoying. Thankfully, they were willing to call it a day early. Hanging out with my big brother is always fun. I think there’s a sense of home and security with him; he reminds me of simpler times, when it was us against the world. Plus, he’s always there for me.

My younger brother, on the other hand, went on a rant about me needing to “get off the meds”. He said “we all get emotional sometimes”, “we’ve all had it hard”, and “we just need to find a channel”…he brought up the dead sea. He went on and on about how I need to listen, but the funny thing is, he never listens. I’ve tried everything. Shoot, this last time I was 6 months off my meds, thinking I was fine until I broke down out of nowhere and tried to kill myself. I hate that I need pills to be normal, not even normal, I need pills to have the will to live. It sucks and is depressing in itself.

Back at work today everyone kept asking me if I was okay. Of course I said yes every time, until finally I realized I was being asked too often. I mentioned this to my supervisor and she said that I seem different. I told her that I feel different, numb even. Her face showed concern, but I told her that it’s a much needed respite from my usually chaotic mind. I promised that if it continues, I’ll bring it up to my psychotherapist. Then I got to thinking, would it really be so bad to feel empty?