"shrink" experience

[mopinko]

including psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, counselors, whatever. pick the answer that best describes your or your family's experiences.

[eyesroll]

1. My one experience with a mental-health professional was useless

A "family counselor" or some such named Mary Ann (yes, she wanted us to call her by her first name). She was huggy and she kept telling me that I wasn't allowed to intellectualize bad things -- that I HAD to react emotionally, all of the time, and it was better to be a crying lump on the couch 24/7 than it was to cry an hour a day and function the rest, lest I be stifling my feelings.

I think I went four times and then fired her.

And, no, I don't want to go into detail about why I was visiting Mary Ann, but it was for quite run-of-the-mill life event depression, not anything horribly traumatic or chronic. E-mail talk therapy with my friend in Florida (you know, the kind of talk therapy people get here in the Lounge for their run-of-the-mill life-event depression) worked much better.

That said -- my dad and sister both suffer from mental illness, and their shrink experiences have been godsends. I wouldn't hesitate to call another counselor -- just not this lady, and I'd probably ask for someone with different credentials.

[Nalgenelover Snort]

2. Frustrating and Annoying

I started seeing a psychiatrist for medication when I was 15, and I hated her with a passion. My mom thought she was some sort of goddess, which meant I was stuck with her. She was the most overblown asshole I ever had the displeasure of doing business with.

There was a general atmosphere that I was expendable to her, just one of a constant stream of patients. I could only see her once every few months because she was so busy, and visits usually only lasted about 15 minutes before I was shooed out the door.

But what pissed me off most was how she refused to listen to me when, after two years, I said I was ready to go off medication. She said that she couldn't do that until I was feeling absolutely perfect all the time. I told her that was unrealistic and that nobody should expect to feel perfectly happy every moment of the day, and she said, "You only think that because you're depressed and can't imagine feeling happy." This, after I'd spent the last ten minutes telling her that I was doing well in school, enjoyed hanging out with my friends, had found something I was excited about, and had been quite happy in general for some time.

The only reason I'm not still on medication is that I finally put my foot down and refused to take any more. She shrugged and said, "Your funeral." She expected me to come back saying I was miserable and wanted to refill my prescription. It's been a year and I very much doubt I'll ever see her again. No loss.

I'm sure therapy can be helpful if you see someone you can trust, or someone who at least looks like they're actually making an effort to listen to you. :eyeroll: