The follow-up

Just warning, this is going to be a boring post, but I’ve had a few emails asking for the end of the story, so here is at least the next bit.

I finished the big deal project Monday, and agreed to hit the shrink again today, this morning, before work. I decided that now was as good a time as any to start being honest. So I was. Said how the fuck much it upset me to get treated like an out of control child last time, that I found it incredibly insulting coming from someone who knows me well enough to know that I never fuck up anything (at least not anything professional), ever, no matter how bad I feel.

He actually didn’t apologize or backpedal, instead tried to argue that it really looked to him like I was “not in control of my actions, out of control,” manic, whatever. Maybe, maybe not, but I always pull my shit together. I should get a little bit of props for that.

Then I went on to lay out what I laid out here. That I secretly think he’s a little bourgeois, which makes it hard to talk to him sometimes. So he tried to prove his street cred by saying he was in Berkeley in the sixties (again, we are not anywhere near North America, so this is a more significant claim than it might sound), which would have worked better if I were poorer at math and couldn’t figure out that he must have been about 10, therefore he wasn’t exactly there burning bras or whatever.  Then he tried to blame me for painting people in black and white, which I don’t think is fair (I think any doc in a field like mine knows enough about people to know that there are complicated sides to everyone and I honestly don’t think anyone who really knows me would ever say that about me), but he had to strike back somehow, so I guess that was reasonable enough.

I tried to explain that I just don’t have much to judge on. I have to judge on gut feelings and whatever leaks through in conversation. And gut feelings don’t come from nowhere – at least, that’s what shrinks believe. I gave several specific examples of things that had made me think that way, though.

And I asked for clarification on why he said I should be a writer (trying to smooth things over by using this as an example of when he surprised me in a good way, because at the time I really did expect him to tell me to just go be a boring doctor and shut up), and he said it wasn’t ever because he doubted my ability as a doctor. So that was the party answer; whether true or not, I don’t know.

The last topic that came up, again, was the mood stabilizer one, i.e. I need one. But I can’t think of a single one I’m willing to take.

For some reason, when I came out of there, I felt horrible. I went to one job, did it but only a little, then came home. Now I need to leave to the next one. For whatever reason, honesty hurts. All I could think about was shooting myself in the head all day.

Since I tagged this, I guess I owe a Shrink’s Line of the Day. It’s not that funny, but I guess there’s some truth to it.

Shrink: You by force or by talent or by charm always run everything, take charge of everyone. And finally, you hit the psychiatrist that won’t let you be the mother. That’s gotta sting.

I’ve gotta go to work. Maybe I’ll follow up later. But probably won’t have time.

The only good thing that happened to me today: my Stargazer Hair Dye came from London. Electric Blue and Fuschia. I can’t wait.



  1. hey, i’m glad you were able to tell the shrink exactly how you felt…i probabaly would have just disappeared, being te pussy i am. See, he doesn’t doubt your abilities, nor do any of us, i kinda thought that was the case, i just wondered why he put it soooo badly. i am so sorry you are still in such pain. Life here is the same….FINE…haha. take good care of yourself, tracy

  2. ps, oh yeah, the hair coloring sounds f a n t a s t i c !!!

  3. Thanks. I’m still a mess. Med change is next, but don’t know what is left to try that I am actually willing to swallow. I’m trying to drag my lazy ass onto the exercise machine to see if that helps me a little. But instead, I’m just surfing the web mostly.

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