So the first one I went to was right after I had graduated from grad school. My counselor in grad school had pretty much told me all throughout that I needed a psychiatrist, but I was too afraid. Finally I conjured up enough courage to go see one. She started me on Lamictal. Said I had treatment resistant depression (no, really… I could have told her that!). After several months, she finally deduced that my fatigue was associated with eating too many carbs (I had a bagel that morning for breakfast, the week before I had yogurt, go figure), and that I should go on the Atkins Diet. She said that she couldn’t help me anymore, so that was the end of that psychiatrist.
It took me a while to work up the nerve to go to another psychiatrist, but I finally did. I was hoping for better luck with this one. I went in to see her, and before she prescribed me anything, she wanted me to have a psychological assessment. So I did. I spent an afternoon doing all these neat tests. I really liked the patterns I got to work with, but I’m weird 😉 So the psychologist said that I was definitely not bipolar. He felt that my brain was too complex to understand something as simple as being happy. Nice. So I go to see the psychiatrist a couple of days later. She hasn’t had a chance to read the psychological assessment report, but figures I’m bipolar 2. Puts me on symbyax. Month later I’m a bit better, mainly because I just got engaged and closed on a house. I’ve gained 10 lbs from the symbyax, so she puts me on Prozac. Tells me to come back six *months* later. Claims I’m stable. I tell her I’m worried that it’s not the meds, but just being a little better because I just got engaged and closed on house. She claims it’s the meds. When the euphoria from engagement and new house wears off, back to depression.
Haven’t been back to psychiatrist since. I’m working with a really good counselor. It is hard for me to open up to him, but it’s my fault. It’s just hard for me to talk to anyone, just saying the stuff out loud is hard.