Losing

Over the past few years, I’ve lost some great people that I thought I wouldn’t be able to live without. None of them have died, but I can’t tell if that’s good or bad news seeing as how they left my life of their own volition for whatever reason, and weren’t taken into the depths of the Underworld, land of the dead, to be presided over by Hades himself. The newest additions to this band of “Shimmy deserters,” as I’ve come to know them as, include a great father figure (the closest person I’ve ever had to an actual father) and his son that was practically a brother to me. I was accepted into their family, joining the ranks of the Shipleys with incredible enthusiasm, but like all things that seem to good to be true, my time with them came to an abrupt and heart-breaking end.

Long story short: I no longer live with them and, as far as I know, they hate me. I lost people that meant the world to me over a misunderstanding and a cry for help in the form of a note. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve been extremely depressed and become reclusive, but thanks to the medication I am now taking, I am practically incapable of feeling any such emotion. Screw anti-depressants, am I right? However, my use of Celexa, the particular selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) I have been prescribed, has thrown me into another chaotic battle full of turmoil and repercussions.

Since taking these meds, I have been deprived of relatively all feelings of sadness. I can tell when I would usually feel sad and maybe feel that I should be, but I just don’t. This may sound like absolute bliss, being free of unhappy thoughts, but it is absolute hell when I realize who/what I’ve lost. Personified, he has no name, but I can relate him to being what the blood splatter analyst/serial killer Dexter calls his Dark Passenger. He started as a pain in my ass and I hated him. I still do, actually. I couldn’t get rid of him so I learned to live with him, all the while wishing I had a means by which to rid myself of his dark presence. Over time, it seems, that he has begun to grow on me. I’ve finally found a way to be rid of my Dark Passenger and actually be happy. I should be happy that he isn’t here to bother me and fill my head with irrationally sad and aggressive thoughts and theories about my friends and family, but I’m not.

Celexa has kept him away, but it almost pains me to say that I want him back. This past week without him, though I’ve been somewhat happy and functioning on a level that would be expected of a normal adult human being, has left me feeling not quite myself. I’m so used to having him around that it hurts that he’s not here. I’ve considered quitting the meds so that he may return, but it doesn’t seem right to do so. My family has been happier and I’m more active with them, but it doesn’t quite feel like me. It feels fake, forced, and empty. Almost like I’m trying to fill the void created by my Dark Passenger’s absence. The problem is that it isn’t working. I still feel like my existence would be better off if it included him. He brings me nothing but turmoil, but it still feels better than the boring, empty happiness I’ve been experiencing lately. I’m torn between continuing the medication at the risk of my sanity for the sake of my family or discontinuing them for the sake and risk of my sanity as well as the risk of my family’s happiness. It isn’t an easy choice and my mind is torn between the two.