I'm sure it all goes back to my childhood and some traumatic experience. That's what my shrink suspects. I trust she knows what she's talking about, because I really have no idea at all. I can't remember a thing.
I guess the one thing I am afraid of is forgetting to take my pills, because I know that if I don't take them, I'll be even worse than I already am. The one thing I do remember is how I felt before I started on the pills and I don't want to ever go back to that.
Do you ever get a feeling when you walk into a dark room that something isn't quite right, that something dangerous is somewhere nearby just waiting for you? That's how I feel all the time. I guess you'd call it apprehension. That's why I take the pills. It used to be much wore. It used to be more like paranoia.
I couldn't go anywhere. Even in my own home, I didn't feel safe. I never knew what it was. It was nothing, it was everything, but I just never could get rid of that fear. I didn't even know what fear was because I couldn't remember a time living without it, it was just the normal way I always was.
I don't remember how it happened, but somehow, Dr. Rodgers found me. I think a neighbor might have finally called about me, or something happened that made me wander out and do something that got me reported, or maybe she just knew somehow. Sometimes I think she knew me before all this because there are times when I just look at her and she seems so familiar. Not familiar in the obvious sense that I've had therapy sessions with her every other day for the past year (I think it's been a year), but in the sense that I actually know her as a person. We always talk about me (as best we can) but still, I feel like I know things about her. It's a weird feeling, but its a million times better than the fear I know I felt before I met her.
Slowly, I think my life might be getting back to normal, whatever that means. I don't remember normal, not even sure if I ever was normal. Normal people have a family they can remember and friends other than their therapist. Normal people have interests and passions. Normal people know where the money they get in the mail every week comes from. And normal people have fears, but they know what those fears are.
At least I can feel safe in my own home, usually. The apprehension will always be there, Dr. Rodgers has warned me of as much, but I don't feel so terrified that I can't even get out of bed anymore. After all, I have to get out of bed to go to my sessions.
That is mostly my life: sleeping, eating, staying clean, you know, the essentials, and then therapy. I see other people when I go in to therapy and they look so sad. I wonder if that's how I look to them. I worry about it sometimes, just like I worry about everything, but I'm fighting it, fighting to control it. Maybe someday, I'll even have interests and passions like a normal person. But probably not. This is my life, and I have to accept it. All I can hope for is making it a little less painful.
Making it a little less painful is what Dr. Rodgers is there for. The pills help a lot, that's true, but it's something about her. She just seems so kind and helpful, but more than that even. I feel safe with her. Once I get inside that office, for those two hours every other day, I feel safe, like nothing bad could ever possibly happen to me. I trust her with my life, because I know she saved it. She is the one thing I know I am not and never will be afraid of.
"Subject responsive to second round of drugs. Simulated paranoia decreasing. Two year trial period half completed."
She closed the case file and closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I should have never convinced you to do this. I know you'll never love me again when this is done. And that fear isn't worth any of this."
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