I recently started seeing a psychiatrist because my primary doctor just didn’t seem like quite the right person to be treating my depression. She’s great and all. But when you’re dealing with things like brain chemistry, I thought it was probably better to go to someone who’s sort of an expert.
So I’m now going to this psychiatrist in addition to my super awesome therapist and things are going pretty well.
Except the part where my psychiatrist is possibly crazy.
I walked into his office for a quick check-in the other day and noticed he was wearing all black. Black pants, black button-down shirt, black bandanna in his very long hair. Everything was black except the bright, noon-day-sun yellow t-shirt under the unbuttoned black button-down. A bright yellow shirt with a large Bat Symbol on it.
As I was leaving with a new prescription in hand, I casually said, “Nice shirt.”
“Thanks,” he said, making a few notes on my chart.
“I have a dwarf rabbit. I named him Bruce Wayne.”
He looked up from his writing. “Big fan of Batman, I take it?”
“Oh yes. Big time.”
“Interesting,” he said and made another note on my chart.
Sure, he only said one word, but it was totally in that German accented-followed-up-by-Tell-me-about-your-mother, Sigmund Freud sort of way.
I went out to my car and texted my friend Michele, telling her all about the weird moment I’d just had and is it really all that interesting for someone to be a big fan of a major comic book franchise?
And besides, he was the one dressed up like a walking bat symbol.
That was when I realized I was parked next to the good doctor’s car and I told Michele:
So he might be crazy.
But I’m not too worried, though. I’m pretty sure he’s mostly harmless.