They Told Me I Was Gone ~Joshua Dun FanFiction~

They Always Seem So Dismal

I told Maya last week that I refused to go back to medication but she really would not listen to me. I found that kind of ironic, I mean, wasn't that her job? To listen to me and understand my feelings? It is, but she hasn't been doing that lately. She clearly sucks at her job and this is one of the many reasons why.

"I am not going to go back to medication." I told her sternly, trying to get it through her thick skull that there was no way that I would be taking any antidepressants. I wasn't comfortable with doing it. I was just fine with my books and my tea and avoiding the human race as much as I possibly could. Medication just wasn't for me; it worked for a lot of people, but I don't think I was one of them.

As always, Maya just sighed at my noncooperation and kept talking, "Shae, you aren't going to get better without it." I understood that she really thought this would be the best thing for me, but she didn't know me that well yet, honestly. She knew what was in my files from past therapists and she knew the few things that I had told her in the last few months. She did not know how much I despised the idea of medication to treat my illness, clearly, because she continued to badger me about it.

"What if i don't want to get better?" I asked, challenging her. Maybe if i asked her questions it would distract her, since she tried to do it to me all the time.

She gave me the most bewildered and confused look I had ever seen on anyone. Her eyes squinted and she leaned forward. "Why wouldn't you want to get better?" She breathed out. It must have been the most absurd thing she had ever heard in her entire life, judging from the way she reacted to my question.

Of course I wanted to get better, I wouldn't be in therapy if I didn't, but I wasn't going to tell her that.I figured, maybe I can get some other things out of her, other ideas of mechanisms or anything really that would get her to understand that medication wasn't going to fix me.

"Sometimes, people are just content with being sad, you know?" I shrugged. It wasn't a complete lie. I am content with being sad and numb to the things around me. I was okay with my lack of friends and my abundance of books. I was okay with coming to therapy once a week to try to fix this problem, even though I knew that I would never be cured. I had come to terms with this fact and although it tended to bother me sometimes it has become a part of me.

"That's not normal." She said, still amazed. I found this ironic as well. People with mental illnesses, people who were most definitely not normal, came here to her for that exact reason. Her job was to deal with people who aren't normal, who don't feel normal, who will never be normal.

Everyone who walks into this office, walks in here because they know that they aren't normal. They know that there's something different about them, and they either came in here to change that or to find a way to deal with that. So here she is, Maya Armett, telling me, her mentally ill patient that I am not normal.

I knew that I wasn't normal. I knew that I was never going to get better because of the way my brain functioned. I would never be able to really make friends on my own and getting a job or going to school would be more difficult for me than it would be for most people. I knew that I would most likely never find love, or get married, or have children because I didn't work that way. I knew that I read more than the average person but I wasn't much smarter because of it. I'm not normal; I know that and I'm in therapy because of that. This is the 12th therapist in my life and she just told me I wasn't normal, like it was a shocking discovery.

Sometimes I really wondered how she managed to get this degree, how she ended up being a therapist because as far as I could tell she was going about it all wrong. 

Vote and Comment. Song is Migraine by Twenty One Pilots.