This chapter opens with Mara in the waiting room at a psychiatrists office.

The magazine I’d been not-reading fell to the floor, open to an NC-17 photograph of two naked models straddling a handsomely suited actor.  Rather racy for a psychiatrist’s office.

I don’t think you know what NC-17 actually means.  Also I’m curious as to why this tidbit is even in here.  It’s so random.  Given this book’s track record so far, I’m wondering if it’s just so that Mara can go “ew, female skin again, isn’t it so terrible?”

She goes in to meet with her new doctor.

“So, what brings you here today, Mara?” she asked.

I held out my bandaged arm. Dr. Maillard raised her eyebrows, waiting for me to speak. So I did.

 “I burned myself.”

“Also, a couple months ago, I was diagnosed by a different psychiatrist with PTSD and for some reason everyone decided to just ignore that.”

They converse for a while, with Dr. Maillard asking general probing questions about her history but not pressing if Mara doesn’t want to talk about something.  Mara is prickly about the whole encounter, but plays along after some hesitation.  Really, my only complaint is the complaints I’ve already been having (like PTSD, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU REMEMBER IT?)  Also, the conversation seems very…pointed.  Like the good doctor has already read the script and only asks questions that are going to be important.

I get that no one really wants to read about a therapy session that meanders all over the place because the doctor lets the patient direct the conversation, but there are ways around that which don’t make her look psychic.  Like, oh, I don’t know, if Mara had been going to a doctor all along and they already had a relationship built up, then going in and saying “damn, gurl, I burnt my arm, let’s talk about that” would make more sense.  If she’d been seeing a doctor this whole time, you can leave that in the background and we’ll assume the boring stuff happened in the sessions we don’t get to see.

Of course, that would require a working knowledge of how outpatient mental health care actually works.

Mara does tell Dr. Maillard about her hallucinations, but she neuters them so much that the doc assumes they are a normal stress response.  After all, thinking you see a dead loved one briefly is a very common reaction, although that’s quite different from having them chase you down the hall or talk to you, and since Mara is cherry-picking instances to talk about the doctor can’t really know there’s a difference.

[when talking about the stressors in Mara’s life] Or finding out your father is representing an alleged murderer of a teenage girl? The thought appeared in my mind without warning.

Okay, book, stop.  You haven’t made that actually interesting or relevant yet, and randomly bringing it up for no good reason isn’t going to change that fact.

They spend several pages rehashing things that we already know, all without Mara saying any of the things that would get her the level of help she actually needs. 

AND THEN DR. MAILLARD, WHO IWAS MORE OR LESS OKAY WITH UP TO NOW, PRESCRIBES ZOLOFT.

DURING THEIR FIRST SESSION.

What even is with this book?  What does it have against any amount of research into how shit works?

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “So, we won’t be doing any hypnotherapy or anything here?”

Dr. Maillard grinned. “I’m afraid not,” she said.

I nodded. “My mother doesn’t believe in it either.”

…book, are you under the impression that this is something normal or are you just trying to distract me from my rage with really bad jokes?

It’s not working.  You should not prescribe someone drugs after talking to them for a grand total of five minutes, especially given the very toned-down version of events that Mara shared.  I’m so flabbergasted that I don’t even know which way to complain here.  We had a whole book of Mara freaking out about getting help, only to have that help be rather mild, only to have it still fuck up pretty fucking badly anyway, but Mara isn’t worried about the actual fuck-up only about stuff that doesn’t really happen anyway. 

Imagine if someone was buying a house, and they were super worried that there were monsters in the closets.  Like, they didn’t even want to go in because there might be monsters in the closets, but they still really need a house.  So the real estate agent finally gets them to go inside, shows them the closets are empty, and they’re cool.  But also there’s a dead body stuffed inside the bricked-up fireplace that this person doesn’t know about so they just go la-dee-da through the whole purchase process.  You want to be mad at them for thinking monsters hide in closets, but also you’re horrified that they got duped into buying a murder house.  That is what mental health care is treated like in this book.

And if it were done with any amount of tact or comprehension, that would make for a decent horror story.

She shook her head. “I don’t like to prescribe SSRIs for teenagers.”

 “How come?”

Dr. Maillard’s eyes scanned the calendar on her desk. “There have been some studies that show a link between SSRIs and suicide in adolescents. Can you meet next Thursday?”

And yet you give it to her anyway before trying literally anything else and then brush past that danger with scheduling concerns.  I fucking hate you.  I started out on your side, Doctor, but now I fucking hate you.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

I CAN’T

I JUST FUCKING CANT

HER MOM TAKES HER PERSCRIPTION AND THEN REAPLCES IT WITH ZYPREXA

ZYPREXA IS AN ANTIPSYCHOTIC

I CAN’T

I JUST FUCKING CAN’T

FUCK YOU, MOM

YOU ARE THE WORST MOM EVER

LIERALLY THE WORST

NOT LITERALLY BUT YOU’RE WAY FUCKING UP THERE

JUST

I CAN’T

THE MURDER HOUSE FROM BEFORE JUST BECAME A FULL ON SAW MOVIE SET, OKAY, AND I JUST FUCKING CAN’T YOU DO NOT FUCK WITH ANTIPSYCHOTICS AND YOU DO NOT TRY AND DUPE SOMEONE INTO TAKING THEM AND YOU ARE NOT ONLY THE WORST MOTHER EVER BUT ALSO THE WORST DOCTOR EVER AND I HATE YOU EVEN MORE THAN THE OTHER DOCTOR AND I JUST FUCKING CAN’T OKAY?