Wednesday, February 7, 2007

I am the Xanax generation-2 days till Feb 11th... :P

I got my prescription of ‘happy pills’ yesterday evening. No, it’s not E but more like Xanax.

Back then, it used to be packs of Prozac. That, according to my therapist, is like the great great grandma of anti depressants. Heh… I managed to do a sheepish smile.

“You are smiling. That is good, Sarcy!”

I felt like strangling the middle aged man who seemed to be so upsy all the time. He is anyway, a therapist, who banks in on people’s depression and abnormal emotional problems right? What more could be better than that?

“So tell me, what has been going on with you for the past couple of weeks?”

“Well, I dismissed a fling. And then there were all these dreams, of my ex sleeping with the other bitc… I mean… woman, of him crashing into another car and all those morbid stuff, I guess.”

“You are still unable to forgive him?”

(What is this, Dr. Phil’s session?)

“I guess so. Well he did leave me you know. He said I am not independent and all that yakabout when he knows that all I need is time. Just because I am 28 and I still live with parents (OMG, I am 28 and still living with parents!) does not mean I am not independent! I mean, I have you, a therapist right? How can anyone who is not independent do that? He split… just like that. Abandon, more like it.”

“Hmm… so what about this fling fellow?”

“Phil? He is nice in a fling – ish kind of way, but I would like to get rid of all things testosterone in my life now.”

“Do you hate your ex?”

“I would rather not talk about him right now.”

“Hate consumes you. It’s not good. Not to sound all biblical and all, but it does.”

As if I don’t know that.

“Your birthday is coming.”

Yeah… rub it in baldy.

“So what do you plan to do?”

“Get drunk.” (Didn’t I do that yesterday?)

The session gets stranger each time I stepped into that room, it will always start with the doctor telling you about clinical depression and why some times he would not want to give medication. After that he would start to stroll into your life story to ‘get to the root of the problem’.

Here is a complete stranger who knows more things about me than my closest buds. Get this, I am paying him by the hour to know more things about me.

I wished I could just ask for my prescription everytime I visit this therapist of mine so that I don’t have to have a session with the short Chinese guy who speaks with an accent. But it seemed that they will only give the meds after the session.

I must have been in really bad shape, because he gave me heavier dosage of Xanax than before. That and also 10 sleeping pills, because I told him I am having difficulties sleeping at night, especially when I am not drinking. Hallelujah!

“Noone likes an alcoholic.” He said, smiling.

Yeah… No one likes therapists and since this is my second time having one, I am still figuring out why do I need something that I don’t like.

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