This will probably be the last post about my counsellor

And when I'm done rolling on the floor laughing, I'll probably be offended and upset and whatnot. But for now, I'm Lorna the ROFLator.

So, today I discovered that my counsellor, the person I go to to try and come to terms with the chronic mental illness that might kill me, has a problem with mental illness. Actually, I'd say my soon-to-be-ex-counsellor is part of the problem with mental illness.

I'd been suspecting that his view of depression and mine were not the same, given his use of weasel words like "problem" and "issues", and his obvious discomfort when I used words like "crazy" and "brain disease". Today I managed to get his view out of him, with a bit of poking and acting more innocent and ignorant than I in fact was.

Apparently I am not crazy, because I'm not *strange wobbly arms-and-torso gesture*. (He has in the past said that I don't "act crazy", which makes me worry, if the people in his life stare at the floor and cry uncontrollably and that's somehow normal.)

I claimed ignorance.

He explained that crazy is schizophrenia, which is serious.

I pointed out that someone with depression is more likely to kill themselves than someone with schizophrenia.*

He said - wait for it, because this is a good one - that schizophrenics kill other people. ( Read more... )