Monday, June 17, 2013

Why I'm not a Psyciatrist

Some people are just not psychiatrist-material, and I am one of those people. Why? Well, first of all, because my emotional IQ is about as developed as a Dr. Seuss book. You've pretty much gotta be mad or sad or glad for me to know what to do with you. This is a problem for most of...everyone I've ever met. They are stressed, anxious, perplexed or smurfy...and what do you do with those things?

"Doctor J, I just don't know....I just feel so "ANXIOUS".
"Ummm." I would look around my office for help. "Here, sit here in my Zen garden thing. That's what they're for, after all."
"Doctor, I feel a little ridiculous. Are you sure this is working?"
"Well, you feel ridiculous instead of anxious, right? That will be, like, a million dollars. You're welcome. Now get your butt off my desk and please tell me we didn't loose that little rake."

See what I mean? I'd get sued in my first week because I would try to "fix" it. And therein lies the problem with feeling things. Sometimes you just can't "fix" feelings. They live in your stupid head, and like a mosquito bite in your crotch in public, you can't do anything to relieve them. No matter how bad it feels, you can't scratch it, so you just stand there smiling and nodding away, pretending to interact with the world around you, but really all you can think about is scratching your butt. It's exactly like that.

Some people take medicine that's suppose to help. Xanax for mad. Prozac and Zoloft for sad. Lithium for super interesting. Some people try to self-medicate with alcohol, some people seek out healthy distractions like running, reading, or shooting furry animals with guns.

But remember, if all else fails, you are welcome to sit in the little Zen garden on my desk. There's nothing else we can do sometimes. At the very least it comes with a little rake to scratch that mosquito bite with if you have one.