Check it out! I just got happiness in a bottle. Hurry up and get in line cuz they're handing that shit out like candy!

I'm fifteen minutes early when I get to my psychiatrist's office. After I pay the lady behind the counter, she gives me the Dean Koontz book I let her borrow and then I sit down. I put on my headphones on and pull out my phone, cutting myself off completely from everyone in the room. The first song my MP3 player picks is 'Wonderful' by Everclear. The sheer irony of that playing while I'm in a shrink's office makes me laugh out loud which, in turn, makes everyone else look at me like I'm crazy. Good thing I'm in the right place.

I start to look around the room at the other people waiting to see their doctor. There's a couple of business men with balding heads and wrinkles carved deep under their eyes from stress. A few children hang on their mother, who aged twice as fast as she should have. I wonder if I still belong here. Six months ago, sure, but now I'm not so sure.

It's when this thought hits me that my doctor comes in to call me back. I don't have any problems with him. He's nice enough and everything, but the whole visit always feels awkward. I'm never there more than five minutes and this occasion is no different.

"What do you need this time?" he asks as he pulls out his scripts. When did doctor's become nothing more than drug dealers with degrees? With a new piece of paper that guarantees me another month of sanity, I take my leave. Back in my car my mind wanders.

Pharmaceutical companies run more of this nation than you think. The U.S. is the only country in the world that advertises medications on T.V. Think about that. The commercials all start out with a broad spectrum of symptoms that you're bound to have at some point. Feel tired? You must be depressed. Ass itch? Must be anal cancer. So you go to the doctor and order it like it's fast food. Oh, and don't forget the side effects they spout off rapid fire. You're gonna need medications to counter act those, too.

I wonder if I still have mental problems, if I ever really did. I'm starting to think I was just dealing with too much bullshit at one time. (See earlier blogs) Now, I feel great. So where do I end, and the medications begin? I don't know, it messes with me, though. (Just don't try to take away my Ambien. Seriously. I'm not fucking around here.)

We're just so quick to throw pills at our problems. We don't look at the source, we just numb the pain. "I think my kid has ADD. He has problems paying attention." No, your kid's fucking six, it's how they act. Now you wanna throw in a pill that messes with his brain's chemistry? You're supposed to be his parents, for Christ's sake. And that's only one example.

My second psychiatrist labeled me as paranoid schizophrenic and bi-polar. Then he never returned my calls. When I went to the hospital because I couldn't deal, they told me that it was clinicaly impossible to have both disorders. Do you have any idea how much that jacked me up?

I'm not saying that all doctors are bad, nor are medications. I just think they should be a last resort, even though I'm perpetuating the system. I love me some Ambien. Until next time...