Doctor-Voodoo-Magic

Doctor asked me how I am today.

I told the doctor, "I feel like at any moment, I'm going to break down and cry." I told her that I haven't felt like myself in the last 48 hours. I let her know that there is no reason for it, everything is fine in my life, I just feel kinda down in the dumps. I'm sure it's just hormones.

I hate this part. This is when she sits down across from me with a deep look of concern and asks,
"Do you feel like hurting yourself or someone else?"
"Do you have any other symptoms or signs of depression?"
"Did you experience postpartum with you last child?"
"Are you having any other troubling thoughts?"
"Like suicide?"

I had to say, "I actually feel fine. It's OK. I don't want to talk about it."

Why do doctors like to diagnose every patient as being clinically depressed? I'm not falling for your doctor-voodoo-magic. I'm not depressed, I know I'm not. I'm not going to let you trick me into having my head examined.

The last time I went in to see a head shrink, I got a prescription for Ritalin, found out I have a drinking problem, eating disorder, anxiety, and... oh yeah, I was diagnosed Bi-Fucking-Polar! (The only ones I agree with is the ADD and the ED. Long story)

But I know I've never been "depressed" a day in my life. Actually, the anger I feel towards the entire psychological / drug industry perks me up and lets me know, I'm definitely not depressed.

I'm hormonal. I've got the baby blues. The End.

I Hate The World Today

Maybe I'm just mad because I got bad news from the dentist, but I'm angry inside today. There are a couple of things that piss me off and I want to get them off my chest.

1. I hate when people switch lanes without turning on their blinkers. They do this weaving in and out between cars thing, It's dangerous; who taught you how to drive? You do not own the road!
   
2. I hate speeders! Who in the hell do you think you are? You could kill me or my kids, I hate you!
   
3. I hate the Yes on 8 protesters. I believe in god, but you make me want to never step foot in a church again.
   
4. I hate when people are late. The only excuse for tardiness is a car accident, that's it.
   
5. I hate flaky people. If you say you're going to be there, be there. It's easy.