I have an appointment with my psychologist today. Boy, is she in for a disappointing surprise.

Last time I met with her, about a month ago, she was pleased because I was doing so much better. The Focalin seemed to have done the trick. I was reaching out to meet with friends. I was signed up to a group to deal with grief about my father’s death. I was feeling positive. I was feeling hopeful. Despite all the stress.

And it’s sad that it only lasted about a month. It only lasted until I ran out of Focalin and realized that I, that we as a family, are still in the same dank hole we’ve been in for what seems like forever.

I’m finding it sad that for the majority of my life, I’ve had to rely on chemicals outside of myself in order to deal with human life, as we have made it.

I imagine that I’m not the only one. In fact, I’m pretty damn sure I’m not. And it makes me wonder what sort of life human beings have created for themselves that leads so many to seek that assistance from a bottle, whether made of glass or of plastic. And sometimes from substances rolled up in paper. Or found growing in the dirt.

Oh, to be the sort of human that never felt the need to alter their reality or their feelings! The sort of human that is content and accepting of existence as it is, as we’ve been practicing it on each other and our fellow creatures on this planet for millions of years. The sort of human who never feels the need to complain or question or doubt. Who can just shrug and accept and move on and enjoy themselves – despite what they see or hear or feel. Who can do all of that without a little assistance from a concoction of one sort or another.

I’m not happy about the fact that I need to alter my brain chemistry in order to function politely and rationally in our society. In order to not want to fling myself off a cliff. And it’s become obvious that I am beholden to those man-made chemicals now. It’s just a question of legalities and combinations and milligrams and moderation and availabilities.

Because I was feeling better, and now, seven full days without Focalin, I’m not. I had a little taste of feeling positive and I don’t care if that feeling of Hope and Wanting to Survive was synthetically produced. I need it back.