I got a comment in a previous post, the one about the claim that 25% of Americans have had a mental illness in a past year, that I thought I'd address in another post.
The difference between psychologists and psychiatrists is that psychologists don't have medical degrees and can't prescribe medication. Psychiatrists are medical doctors, went to medical school, did their residencies, all that good stuff, then they take the courses and training and tests to become psychiatrists. They can prescribe medication.
My father was a psychiatrist. He was also an alcoholic, but that's a topic for another time. Maybe. Anyway, if you want to piss off a psychiatrist, call him or her a psychologist. They don't handle it well. :)
I'm not a doctor (not even close), and so I'm stating an opinion here, but it's an informed one based on many years of close observation: Just because somebody has a fancy degree or specializes in a particular field of medicine (like psychiatry)
doesn't mean they know what they're doing. And as my mother has told me time and again, half of all the doctors in the world graduated in the bottom half of their class.
My father seemed to think that everybody had something going on that needed therapy. I remember in particular one very contentious family discussion (my older sister was out of the house by then, and I'm not sure if my little sister was there, but I'm pretty sure my brother was and I know my mother was there). I can't remember how we got to this point in the argument, but I piped up with, "You're so busy being a psychiatrist you don't know how to be a father" or words to that effect. My mother leaped up from where she was sitting, pointed at me and shouted to him, "Listen to her!" I confess at the time I was well and truly shocked -- I had thought I was just spouting off, but it seemed I had actually twigged onto something.
It was easier for him, I think, to be a psychiatrist, because there are guidelines and rules and limits on what a person can and cannot do. Being a father is a lot... what's the word... mushier. There's no checklist, no list of rules to follow, no hints on what to say or do in a given situation.
I also think that there is such a thing as too much education. You can think a problem or an issue through too much. Looking back (and our memories change, so maybe what I remember isn't what really happened) it seems to me that at some point he crossed a line in his head, a point past which he was unable to relate to those of us who hadn't made that intellectual trip with him. He didn't understand us anymore.
So, when my commenter says that her doctor prescribed a wholly inappropriate medication for her after the birth of her child, being possessed of absolute certainty that she
needed these pills because
all new mothers need these pills, unable to picture a situation in which all his medical skill and training didn't mean squat next to a little common sense and decent enough eyesight to perceive his patient's demeanor, I'm not in the slightest bit surprised.
It's too bad she didn't yank his chain a bit -- invent a few weird dreams, or feelings that people were watching her through the television, or something. It probably would only have made things worse -- he might have tried to have her committed. But it might just have been funny to watch him spin himself into the ceiling trying to figure out her ailment.
I couldn't find "cyclothymic", but if periodic mood swings is a mental illness, color me nuts. We're all screwed.
One more comment. I'm trying to learn to play the bagpipes (Why? Because I'm nuts, of course.) and the band I'm learning from is one of the few that take adult students in addition to children. One of the child students we had a couple years back was the most obnoxious child it has ever been my misery to share a room with. He was loud, rude, inconsiderate, narcissistic and in constant need of attention. His parents, both of them, were psychiatrists.
I rest my case.