About Depression

Awhile back I posted that this winter was really hard on me. I went to my doctor who told me to see a counselor before we decided on an anti-depressant. By the time I saw the counselor the sun was out and I was much happier just b/c I'm mainly affected by lack of sunlight. However, the psychologist did say that perhaps I could use something to get me over the hump...only she promptly forgot to tell my doctor. When I went back to the doctor for my appointment I recounted the conversation with the counselor and he said he didn't have the report, but would call her. So, then they talked and they decided that they weren't comfortable giving me any medication b/c they thought I should see the psychiatrist b/c they thought I might be bipolar. And these are two "doctors" who don't know me at all and haven't given me any real attention or consideration. I told the doctor I would NOT go to the psychiatrist since they are unfortunately really good at giving labels to people that stick with them through the rest of their lives. I told him that if indeed I really am bipolar (which I doubt) that I have managed to function well enough to this point in my life. I don't want any part of the medication that is for bipolar disease. Since I'm able to function and hold a job and get my work done and take care of my household, I would wager that bipolar isn't one of my issues. He decided I was bipolar b/c I ran into my gyn appointment fresh from a bunch of other appointments and heading to more appointments IE: it was a really busy day. I made a joke that on days like that one I felt like I had ADD. Other people make cracks about my add all the time, but it's a joke. I don't think I really have ADD. If I did I would have a hard time juggling on my balls. I honestly think that the real problem is that I was able to report my symptoms and I knew what to ask for which may have been suspicious to a doctor who is trying to show me that he is the boss and knows what's wrong. Every girlfriend I have that needed something can get it from their doctor...but not me...I think that it means that God says I can handle my depression bouts on my own--so I will. I just feel kind of betrayed by the whole psychologist/doctor thing. I'm ok with them deciding that I'm not depressed or don't need any chemical help. I'm disturbed that I came across as bipolar to them when I was actually in a very normal upbeat mood. I tried to tell them that who I was those days was the "good me" that there isn't a more hyper or manic me. There is just the "good me" and the "sad me" (well, sad me is sometimes grouchy) Oh well, I give up.