Comments on: VA: A Memorable Sort of Psychosis

By: richbh

richbh — Sun, 09 Sep 2007 20:02:43 +0000

First, just about everyone I know has been, is, or is planning on being in therapy. There are just some things that we individual human beings cannot sort out on our own.

Running into one’s therapist on the street or in a park or even sharing time at a social function is no big deal.

Just my perspective.

By: Shadowbird

Shadowbird — Sun, 09 Sep 2007 16:49:02 +0000

Come on. Teachers often remember a lot of their old pupils (and espeically their exploits in the class), and they get an entirely new bunch every year, as well as have several classes once. Human brain is nothing but unfilled potential, so this is really nothing special…

By: Olb

Olb — Sat, 08 Sep 2007 03:33:44 +0000

Maybe she’s been stalking you all this time?=)

By: Candy

Candy — Fri, 07 Sep 2007 21:50:52 +0000

Perhaps she was delighted to see someone who had impressed her as funny, smart, and warm-hearted, someone who had gone through some really tough times and who responded by building a happy and fulfilling life.

By: kathaclysm

kathaclysm — Thu, 06 Sep 2007 17:41:27 +0000

Geeze… from the story V told of her mom locking her up in a room for months, I have no doubt that her therapist found her quite memorable.

I would hate to run into my old therapist in public, not because it would be awkward, but because I’m terrified of the man. So much was going wrong at the time of my life I first went to see him, that every time I’ve seen him since just got me all worked up & emotional. He would keep asking what was wrong and I’d just be like “this office, & seeing you, makes me more uncomfortable than anything else right now,” and I figured that was a good time to stop going.

If I had to interact with him in a public setting, I’d probably just collapse and ball up into the fetal position while crying pathetically.

By: Matthew

Matthew — Thu, 06 Sep 2007 04:25:17 +0000

I’ve ran into my therapist once in public, at a pot luck, he thought it was awkward, but it didn’t really bother me. Most of the people knew what he did, and while they didn’t knew that I was bipolar, it wasn’t that they didn’t know me, it just had never come up before. They thought I was some normal guy, (okay, not completely normal: I raise chickens in my backyard, but it was a pot luck of other people that do that too.) So to explain to people that I’m actually a few pills away from being in an asylum, but as long as I take my pills I’m a regular old middle class American, I think actually helps people realize that treatment actually works, that the crazy people you see living on the street are just one good prescription and a therapist away from being a productive member of society, and that people like my cousin, (who killed himself on Monday,) could have gone out and gotten treatment and been moderately happy, instead of living with their mother in a double-wide until they were 35… (Seriously, I think the guy did the right thing under the circumstances, although I’m not going to tell his mother that at the funeral, cause she was the one that was trying to convince him that he didn’t need treatment.)

My point is that if you ran into your mechanic in public, they wouldn’t act like it was a big secret that you’d ever had car trouble, in fact you’d probably mention the weird noise it was making this week. I doubt that your dentist would pretend to not know who you were, even if you do drink too much pop and don’t floss. And I invited my real estate agent to a party at my house, and I introduced her to people as, (shame of shame,) my “real estate agent.” You have a problem in your life, you seek out a professional, we do it for every other type of problem, so what is the big deal about mental illnesses that we pretend that they don’t exist and that people don’t need treatment for them?

But I’m crazy, so what do I know…