Doctors Can Be Idiots Too

I first went to see a doctor about my depression about 5 years ago.  I didn't know that there was help for me, because I assumed that how I felt was just a character flaw - that it was my fault for not being able to handle things like normal people do. 
My boyfriend (now husband) said that I should go see a doctor for help, I was - relieved?  It was the very first time that anyone had suggested that how I was 'acting' was not my fault, that there could literally be something 'wrong' with me.  I remember feeling like the puzzle peices were coming together.  Not my fault.  Not. My. Fault.  To finally think that there was a medical reason for how I felt was liberating! 

There have been so many times in the past where I would just completely lose it and then be embarrassed by my behavior (that I couldn't control) and want to shrivle up and disappear.

I called for my first appointment and they were very fast at getting me in, to my amazement!  It's like when you go to the walk-in with chest pain - they don't mess around!  Anyway, I saw my general practice doctor and explained how I had been feeling (my whole life) and he seemed to understand how I felt and prescribed Prozac and a follow up visit.  After several weeks, I began to feel what I imagined 'normal' people feel like. 

Fast-forward 4 years.  After seeing a psychologist and him reassuring me that it's not me but that the medication wasn't working properly any longer, I went to see my doctor again.  I relayed what I was going through and the suggestions the psychologist had recommended for increasing my meds.  My doctor was a complete asshole.  He said I seemed fine a few month before and almost seemed threatened by the information I relayed from the psychologist.  I had had it.  I didn't need my doctor making me feel like a failure and an idiot.  I took my business elsewhere.

At this time, I'm very happy with the doctor I have chosen.  I didn't choose a psychiatrist because I don't have depression because of issues - it's just the way I am.  I chose a doctor of internal medicine who can treat me for whatever I walk in there with.  Thankfully, we found a medication that works for now, and I've been making a conscious effort to evalute how I'm feeling regularly. 

I've also learned to listen more closely to my husband.  Although he doesn't understand me most of the time, when he starts telling me that I seem crabby, repeatedly, I'll make an appointment to see my doctor.

Merry Christmas!