Quote:
Originally Posted by abscondist
TY very much for your replies.
I know I definatly have depression.
My mother commited suicide and I also attempted many times.
Inherited her gift at birth.
The last time was 3 years ago. I was incubated in ICU for 3 days in comma.
When I was a kid, I surely was afraid to take part of ANY activities. I'm talking from kindergarden up.
Being adopted, I always had the feeling of abandonment since about 5 years old and experienced it from the on...
Being on Medicaid doesn't give me much of a choice of places to go to.
People are just acting the part in their job titles at the docs office. The receptionist once remarked to me, "what do you think of that phyciatrist? Quite a character aint he?" She didn't mean a "good fella" either.
I can't count the amount of screw ups by all of them, and the dentist office too.
They foul up my appointments, paperwork, medical records, and non-returned calls by me. ect....
"Please consider printing a copy of your post for your psychiatrist"
Good idea. The last write up I gave to a past T went lost from my records.
One office place I go to, hired about 5 new workers for receptionists, in one year. They are gone now.
One thing after another. I could write a list. I get nervous everytime I go to an office. Every place is the same. At least 4 places I go to. What's with people today.? They don't know their right hand from their left when it comes to being professional at your job.
My newest social worker was an intern last year. What the hell am I going to tell some young girl, that she hasn't even experienced yet in life. I'll be 60 next yr if I make it.
"Anti-social conjures up images of hostility towards people and society"
Your dam right there.
BUT YOU PEOPLE ARE NICE!  |
Ah, thanks so much for that
. Arggh, I am also very frustrated at the lackadaisical, half-assed, half-hearted way people approach their work nowadays, it's really pathetic.
I remember my first therapist was also a young woman, an intern, perhaps even younger than I. When I began to tell her about my childhood, I could literally see the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. I actually felt a bit sorry for her and I felt the need to console her perhaps, but I was there to be helped by her. It's so ironic how dead I feel, emotionless, even after experiencing these things first hand, and then when I only speak them to someone else, they have a greater emotional response to the reported words than I had to the real thing!!
