I'm never going back to see him again. My psycologist is so cool, and really understanding--but I went to see the psychiatrist to discuss medication today, and he was a total asshole.
You know that feeling when you KNOW someone is talking down to you? Like they're backing you into a corner.
He asked little questions about my mom and stuff, and I answered them openly and honestly. "Is it possible to move out of your mother's house?" he asked, to which I replied "no...I don't see that being an option..."
He turned around is his chair, looked at me like I was COMPLETELY fucking REMEDIAL and I said "we're in a financial crisis in this country, sir. I don't have the money for my own place, or to live on campus. I don't qualify for financial aid, or any of that stuff. All I have are the couple of small loans my mom took out for me--that's how I'm paying for college at the moment."
And after that, the questions got increasingly more asshole-ish.
"Do you still get pleasure out of playing music?"
"yes, sir."
"Well..that's interesting, because people with depression usually don't enjoy things they used to."
AND THIS CONVO MADE ME LOL HARD INSIDE"
HE said: "I don't understand why someone can say they have an anxiety disorder, and be able to get up and perform on a stage."
After he said that...I was ready to rummage through the room for his medical degree. Srsly. He made me feel like shit.
Plus I saw him die a little inside when he handed me my Prozac perscription.
FUCK YOU, SIR. FUCK. YOU.
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"This is a crazy-mixed-up world,
and you've gotta look it right in the eye."
-Bob Dylan
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