When Psychiatrists Go Nuts

Sometimes I wonder if I have bipolar disorder. Lately I’ve been in high spirits – feeling blessed, optimistic and overall content with life – which is awkward, really. I’m so used to being dejected that I feel something’s amiss when I’m in a good mood. Curse you, depression! (Or whatever mental illness that you are)

Truth be told, I don’t know whether I truly am clinical depressed or not. I deduced this “fact” based on a number of Google searches and after identifying myself with the warning signs and symptoms.

For instance, based on the following guide, I am “suffering from clinical depression”.

Are you depressed?

If you identify with several of the following signs and symptoms, and they just won’t go away, you may be suffering from clinical depression.

  • you can’t sleep or you sleep too much

  • you can’t concentrate or find that previously easy tasks are now difficult

  • you feel hopeless and helpless

  • you can’t control your negative thoughts, no matter how much you try

  • you have lost your appetite or you can’t stop eating

  • you are much more irritable, short-tempered, or aggressive than usual

  • you’re consuming more alcohol than normal or engaging in other reckless behavior

  • you have thoughts that life is not worth living (seek help immediately if this is the case)

The only point that I can’t relate to is the one about alcohol-consumption. Yes, I may be mentally ill, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost it. I can clearly differentiate right from wrong, halal from haram. Alhamdulillah!

Regarding the last point, I did seek help regarding my recurrent suicidal thoughts. Only that my parents don’t seem to consider it a weighty issue, and the only psychiatrist I’ve visited had the nerve to ask me “Did you ever attempt suicide?” right in front of my parents. That may not seem a biggie… until you realize that it was the very first question s/he asked me, and that I don’t share such intimate details with my folks. Right, s/he also substituted counseling for a bunch of antidepressants.

Needless to say, I’ve lost faith in shrinks ever since I visited Dr Rude.


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