Piecing It Back Together

In the past year, I have fallen out of touch with my inner self and in turn everyone else. I have become dissociative, uninhibited and empty. I feel nothing aside from acute panic for having wasted so much of my time and not having accomplished anything significant.
Something upsetting caused this but that hardly matters. Although I'm not entirely sure what it was, I don't care to find out anymore. If anything, I feel like I've only sunk deeper into the quicksand in trying to understand its purpose. I need to pull myself out and I'm trying to do it in part by writing poetry. The creative process is naturally very emotionally demanding and by becoming embroiled in it, I'm hoping to garner the emotions I've left to atrophy.
I don't want this to be a depressing book; I don't like depressing books, and like I said, I don't want unpleasantness to be the focus of my work. I'm trying to counterpoise it by expressing healthy emotion. Most importantly, I'm trying to enjoy writing like I used to. I'm trying to piece my old self back together.