Day Forty-Six: Rant About Life and My Future Profession

I've come to the realization that any box of Sweetarts is going to be 95% pink Sweetarts. Which sucks, because pink is my least favorite flavor. They know this too. The Wonka establishment. They KNOW that blue tastes 90 times better than pink and that pink tastes like some capsulized version of cough syrup mixed with acid and blue tastes like sex. So they throw like...10 blues in a box of like...200 Sweetarts and of course fail to get your fill of blue Sweetarts so you go to buy another box and force yourself to eat like 80 more pink Sweetarts in order to get the blues. That's the way life is. One person screwing you over at a time.
It's like...YOU held up your end of the deal. YOU gave the lady the $3 at the obscenely overpriced University Bookstore for your box of candies and THEY...the corporation fucks you over. And you realize this right after you walk out of the store, open your box and find a flood of pink chalky disks with NO blue in sight.
It's like jobs and relationships.
Today my father of 63 lost his final and last contract. He no longer has a job. My father is one of the hardest working, most committed people I know. In fact he is the SOUL reason I even have a work ethic. For 40 something years my father held up his end of the bargain with those companies and for 40 something years he put in his time and he did what he was supposed to and he was a DAMN good employee. And all of a sudden some little young jerk comes along, thinks he knows the business and my father gets the boot. While he's going through a God damned divorce and still has a kid in high school. It's like when they give you that 30 days notice....it's like looking into that box full of pink candies.
It's also like my relationship with Jude. I put in the time. I gave 150% in that relationship. I gave much much more than Jude ever gave, and where do I end up? The fool. The stupid fool who was robbed of two years of her life, left with NO ONE. Because she was stupid enough to isolate herself from everyone else to better accommodate her relationship that ended up blown to smithereens. I gave my $3 and all I got was a box of pink Sweetarts.
I've been reading "It's Kind of a Funny Story" by Ned Vizzini. I've decided that I like it. It took me awhile to decide but I like it. It's a bit more...dialouge-y than what I normally pick. But I get that. There are times when all I do is write dialogue. I'm in the shower and suddenly I think "Oh, that would be clever to say there" and so I get out and write an entire dialogue set between two characters. I can see where he's coming from. I like Ned. I think he does well.
I had a friend on Facebook comment on my status the other day when I was talking about buying the book. It was more so of a textual punch in groin than a comment. I've been getting a lot of those lately. Textual punches in the groin. I'm wondering if maybe people are just in foul moods lately or it's "Let's Hate on Everything Katie Ever Thinks" month. This friend was OBVIOUSLY hospitalized in a mental institution before and kind of jabbed my in the throat for being excited about a drama about a teen that become institutionalized. She said something to the effect of, "Mental institutions are gross and horrible and this is completely mocking them and making light of the subject". And while that MAY or MAY NOT be true, MY OWN opinion resides here. The reason most mental institutions are so gross and terrible is because the people in charge of them couldn't give a rat's ass about anyone in there. In psychology we do not CURE people. There is no CURE for mental illness. If there was we'd all be running up and down the street throwing streamers at our neighbors and singing "Old McDonald Had a Farm". In psychology we TREAT mental illness. So in all honestly there really isn't any HEALING going on in the psychology department. We're not healers we're supporters. We're highly trained individuals who THINK we know what's going on in your head that know EXACTLY what to say to make you feel like we know what we're talking about and then you give us a lot of money to give you a generic "This is what you should do about this..." that if you REALLY wanted to think for yourself you could have come up with that too. And you thought we were so noble. PLEASE. We're JUST like you. Just as fucked up. Just as angry. Just as lost. Just as sad. We're basically professional moral support. Which in my opinion...is a worthwhile investment. Since so many other people in your life are just as emotional and ridiculous as you. Here's the catch though. 98% of people who are psychiatrists today DO NOT CARE ABOUT THEIR PATIENTS. They went into undergrad thinking "Oooh. I'm going to major in psychology because psychiatrist make bank." Literally. I'm a psychology major. I hear it all the time. It's not because they WANT TO or they CARE ABOUT YOU. It's because at the end of the day they know all the have to do is say "It's your mother's fault" and they can go home to their house in the hills and sip wine until they have to wake up the next morning and do it all over again. But where does the other 2% fall? Well. That would be me.
Hi guys. I'm Katie. I'm a psychology major because when I was a child I was verbally, physically, and emotionally abused by everyone in my life. I am 21 years old now and it took me about that long to figure out why the hell I am on this earth and who I am. That was REALLY hard. That was HORRIBLE trying to figure that out on my own. Gee. I might know a few things about the way the mind works. I might KNOW how to relate to people who come into my office bawling because their mother calls them a fat whore and their friends spit on them and ostracize them at school. And HEY! I'm a pretty smart cookie. I could become a psychologist. And so. I did. Because the ONE thing I can't stand is to watch people suffer. I can't do it. I FEEL it when someone else suffers. And I can't watch someone suffer the same way I did. That's why I can't stand fat people. It makes me so sad. Because I'm fat. I've been fat my entire life. And the emotional and physical pain is something that NO ONE can get rid of. It's there for the rest of your life no matter how thin you get. And when I see other people struggling with the same thing it makes it unbearable to be around them. Because you KNOW what they suffer with. You KNOW the feeling they're having when they can't buy the clothes they like and people are talking shit about them. So it makes it worse. So I thought....if I could have the chance...to spare people the mistakes that I made...if I had the chance to change someone's path for the better so they don't end up like me...that would be awesome.
My dream is to become a doctor. A psychiatrist. And I want to head up a teen psych ward in a mental hospital. And when I do, it won't be a holding cell for messed up kids. It's not going to be a place that people just drop off their kids so that I can medicate them and tell them that they're good boys and girls and one day they are going to succeed and then dope them up some more. That's not going to happen. There is something seriously fucking wrong with this business. And I've heard more and more horror stories and guess what? I've been there. I've been a victim of a fucking shrink that just wanted to line her pockets with my mommy's cash. I've been doped up before. I've been treated like a failure. I've been a zombie before and a slave to what my psychiatrist says is right for me. That's why I'm not going to be that way. Perhaps I'll become one of the only "healers" in this field one day.
I like this book by Ned Vizzini. Because it depicts something dark in a positive way. It shows that even when you're the worst you can be there's still something right around the corner. This book is hopeful and when other kids who are struggling like Craig, the main character, read that book or see that movie they might feel better. So guess what. The girl who commented that on status a few weeks ago can suck my dick. For real. The reason you're so miserable is because you let yourself be that way. Did someone ever tell you that? Well. There you go. Stop sucking the happiness out of people's lives. Thanks.

End Day 46