YOU ARE NOT ALONE - A companion online community discussion board for The Mental Illness Happy Hour podcast with Paul Gilmartin

Hands down, the dumbest thing anyone has said to me was by my mother. She said that I could not kill myself because I am loved. She has no idea that I want to die because I don't love myself. It makes no difference to me if other people profess their love. It means nothing. They are bull shitting me.

There are so many things. Here's a few...
I had a nurse at a hospital tell me that I didn't want to get better after I'd tried ECT's. Excuse me, I let you fry my brain that was how desperate I was to feel better.

When I was 19, I had a friend tell me I couldn't kill myself because I hadn't lived or loved yet. But she said it in the most condescending way possible like I was some silly toddler that made me want to kill myself.

I had someone tell me I just needed to go to the bar and get drunk-- That drinking would make everything better.

My (now ex-) boyfriend: "You should just try not to be so sad."

Had a psychiatrist tell me:
"I'm a bit of an old pig, I like women young.
(I'm thinking where the fuck this come from?)

"You don't have a girlfriend do you?"
"I do,"(Thinking, I fucking told you about her already."

"How are you together. I mean, when you're in bed together, do you thing of her needs or your own?"
(Now thinking where the hell is this going) I control myself and say shortly: "Of both, I guess."

Then he says: "That's wrong, you only have to think of yourself."
(Thinking, you're so out of line, I'm want to break my fist, while I smash it as hard as I can into your stupid quack face. I consider the consequences, but I can't see how this will help my situation, so I simply stall till the time is up and decline to renew my appointment. I never looked back, I never reported him, but I have always regretted, that I didn't beat him to death with his hole punching machine.

I went to a male gynecologist once, who was trying to diagnose discomfort in my lady parts, and was about to do a biopsy to see if I had HPV. (I didn't.) As he was getting ready to do the biopsy I felt cold metal touch my inner thigh and almost jumped off the table. He said to me, in a condescending voice: "I'm not even doing anything yet." I replied: "OK, but you are between my legs with sharp implements, it makes me nervous!." He says "Yeah, I don't know how you women do this." Seriously? From a gynecologist?

This same guy, after the test showed I didn't have HPV, told me he was prescribing me an anti-depressant. I was so offended, because I thought he was saying my pain was all in my head! I went to see another gynecologist (a woman, phew), who explained what I had, and that this anti-depressant was very effective in low doses treating the type of pain I had. A little kindness and a thoughtful explanation goes a long way . . .