Quotes About Psychiatrist

What a childhood I had. My parents sent me to a child psychiatrist. The kid didn't help me at all.

I told my wife the truth. I told her I was seeing a psychiatrist. Then she told me the truth: that she was seeing a psychiatrist, two plumbers, and a bartender.

Easiest job in the world of course, Australian psychiatrist, "Gday Gday how you doing no worries next".

Her imagination painted Georgie twenty years later, sitting in leg irons before some Broken psychiatrist. "Well, you see, it all started with bubbles.

One should only see a psychiatrist out of boredom.

That's the era we grew up in. It's weak to go to a psychiatrist.

tyro psychiatrist who provided the topic for a great deal of their conversation.

It didn't help that Carlos was always badmouthing himself as a neurotic. I had to agree with him. Like the psychiatrist who told his patient: Don't worry about having an inferiority complex. You're inferior.

The endless questioning finally ended. My psychiatrist looked at me, there was no uncertainty in his voice. "Manic-depressive illness." I admired his bluntness. I wished him locusts on his lands and a pox upon his house. Silent, unbelievable rage. I smiled pleasantly. He smiled back. The war had just begun.

He was a psychiatrist, as well as a warm, whimsical, and witty man who had a mind like a cluttered attic.

I learned how marvelously the mind can heal, given half a chance, and how patience and gentleness can put back together the pieces of a horribly shattered world. What God had put asunder, an elemental salt, a first-rank psychiatrist, and a man's kindness and love could put almost right again.

The psychiatrist grew weary; found himself drifting into private sorrow. He glanced at a plaque that someone had given him the previous Christmas. MY BROTHER HURTS. I SHARE HIS PAIN. I MEET GOD IN HIM, he read. A failed encounter. He blamed himself. He had mapped the streets of his brother's torment, yet never had walked them; or so he believed. He thought that the pain which he felt was his own.

The psychiatrist motioned Klein to come over to him. "Let's get her tranquilized," he whispered. "Maybe I can talk to her.

am speaking to the person inside of Regan now," the psychiatrist said firmly. "If you are there, you too are hypnotized and must answer all my questions." For a moment, he paused to allow the suggestion

Chris made a telephone call to her doctor in Los Angeles to ask him for a referral to a local psychiatrist for Regan.

Hesitation. Then "I've got one. What's the name?" She wrote it down and then the telephone number. "Call and have him look her over and then tell him to call me," the internist advised. "And forget the psychiatrist for now." "Are you sure?

where does this new personality come in?" The psychiatrist turned back to her. "Well, again, it's just a guess," he said, "but assuming that it is conversion hysteria stemming from guilt, then the second personality is simply the agent who handles the punishing. If Regan herself were to do it, that would mean she would recognize her guilt. But she wants to escape that recognition. Therefore, a second personality.

By the time we became friends, he was concerned he was losing his facility for the language, so he actually found a Yiddish-speaking psychiatrist in Los Angeles and paid her hourly fee once a week just to sit and speak with him in Yiddish. He

However, if you live the church life, the very Christ whom you offer to God will heal you. He is better than any psychiatrist. Do not go to a psychiatrist—come to Christ and offer Him to God. Then you will be healthy, sober, and emotionally balanced.

He [the psychiatrist] said, well, do I think that sex is dirty and I said: "It is if you're doing it right."

I feel strongly, because a man who will himself die one day in the not to distant future and, also, as a psychiatrist who spent decades dealing with death anxiety, that confronting death allows us, not to open some noisome, Pandora's box, but to re-enter life in a richer, more compassionate manner.

I would have waited outside if I'd known, since the potential for really awkward conversation seems pretty high in the waiting room of a psychiatrist's office.

My mother took me to a psychiatrist when I was fifteen because she thought I was a latent homosexual. There was nothing latent about it.

How do you suppose we'd go about finding one?" she asked. "A psychiatrist, I mean. Aren't a lot of them supposed to be quacks? Well, but still, I guess that isn't really much of a problem, is it.