Who Would I Be Off My Meds

Some years ago, in a condition of acute emotional distress, I found myself in the office of the resident psychologist on a unit of a mental institution. Sitting in this psychologist’s office on day four of my incarceration, I was wracked by a kind of psychic claustrophobia; I was miserable and scared and desperate to get out. Fueled by panic, I pleaded tearfully that I needed to go home.