One of the strange things about major depression is the time distortions. Every minute seems to drag on for eternity, but the days and weeks slip past unchangingly. The only constant is the feeling of having accomplished nothing in a day/week/month.
Maybe even year, if 2006 is an example. I guess the feeling is constant because I literally have accomplished almost nothing. Except surviving.
Saw p-doc today, and we somehow veered onto the topic of google, and the fact that google somehow saves all the search terms used and can retrieve them. And that the searches done were used in court to convict someone of killing his wife. I mentioned the Shrink Rap Top 10 for 2006 and listed the ones I could remember. He found the topic of girls having sex with fish particularly interesting, so we chatted about the possibilities of that for a bit. And then the 'how to worry your psychiatrist' phrase reminded him that I didn't bring him my meds collection - yet again - and I reminded him that I had said I wouldn't. He told me I'm responsible for half his grey hairs, and the other patient only worries him as much as I do because he has a gun. Mentioned that I have one too, and have had for the last 20 years - which he said will give him even more grey hairs. I pointed out that if I haven't used it on myself or anyone else yet, the chances are that I never will, but he still figured that people with psychiatric illnesses shouldn't have guns. Ha ha, one of ex-p-doc's greatest interests is guns, and we spent many happy hours debating makes and models, and gun-related subjects. Current p-doc seemed to think that that was even stranger....
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1 comment:
Sometimes, a fish is just a fish.
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