Who’s Life Is It Anyway?

I guess the whole reason I’m writing this is that I feel emotionally detached from my life. My medication may be working a bit too well, but who am I to say. I still love my children and husband. I still love my friends and my family. I like being at home and the challenges it brings me during the day and evening hours. I’ve found my creativity in scrapbooking and card making and I’ve been reading the romance novels I’ve always had a secret fondness for. But, for all that’s good in the world, I feel detached from it. As if I’m merely a shadow going through my day on a mission until my head hits the pillow at night. And, as if that weren’t bad enough I’m finally “seeing” that nothing has really changed and I’m still facing the same challenges, but with no real attachment to their meaning or significance. It’s like I’ve stopped caring, even though I know I would definitely be bothered without the meds, in fact, pissed off; but because of them, I’ve stopped fighting. And, I do still care, but things no longer have the same importance as they once did.

So, who’s life is it anyway? Is it really my life? Is it the “new” me who will have to trudge onward and try to make sense of the detachment? Will the detachment turn into another emotion? I don’t know. I just don’t really know.

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