(July 8, 2014 at 6:19 pm)Rhythm Wrote: Like you, I'm not comfortable calling something "run of the mill depression" However, when I'm on the same pills that some coddled beach whore who watched her chihuahua die is on...something tells me that one of us is not receiving competent care. Something tells me that watching human beings disintegrate no more than a few feet away from you might be a little more potent than watching a dog die of old age. So, again, somebody is getting dicked. It's hard to imagine that it's the girl with the chihuahua. Though, of course, she's likely to be getting that shaft as well...if I'm getting the shaft.
We aren't fucking doctors. We ought to be able to trust those that are at least a little bit more than we do.
No argument here.
I would observe that everyone has differing capabilities in the coping department, or so my therapist tells me, and that unresolved trauma accumulates. Most people can compartmentalize that shit (no, not what you experienced, perhaps not even what I have), but there comes a time when the bin's full and you reach a breaking point. Chihuahua girl may just be a drama queen.
Your point is well taken, however.
