Last week I went to see the psychiatrist because of my blues. I generally try to keep this blog as my happy place (and pretty much everywhere else because as a neurotically depressed teenager you learn that people don't really want to be around the sad, depressing person, which just leads you to being more depressed, and so on. Like that old anti drug commercial about cocaine. But for me it's more, I seem happy so I can have more friends so I can seem happier so I can have more friends...)
ANYWAY, I went to the psychiatrist and he diagnosed me with Seasonal Affective Disorder and prescribed me a light. A FREAKING LIGHT. AND it costs over $200.
And because my field of study has been psychology, I was like, "WHAT THE HELL KIND OF PSYCHIATRIST ARE YOU? You're supposed to be a drug dealer. Hey, drug dealer! WHERE ARE MY DRUGS???"
Yeah, but I didn't do that because then I might have been committed. Or thrown in jail. Or tossed out of Poland. All of which would have been bad. I think.
And he told me to quit drinking and exercise more. And I was like, "Yeah, only ONE of those is going to happen. I'm not superwoman! So which is it doc, drinking or exercise?"
(Oh, and the "exercise more" for those of you who know me, was because he asked if I exercise and I said "I used to" meaning: about a week ago I quit because the parking situation was too bad and almost made me burst into tears so I had to stop going to the gym to keep my sanity, and he heard "I used to" meaning: the last time I strapped on running shoes was in 1985 - and I was 11 then.)
Updated - I should have posted a picture of the light originally. And here's where you can find one (in case you also have seasonal affective disorder and a psychiatrist who doesn't believe in medicine):