They made him color. The VA doctors. He told me he sat in a room with other Vets and they colored in coloring books with crayons. If he could have rolled his eyes any more when he referenced color therapy, he would have been staring at the inside of his head. He had a love/hate relationship with psychologists/psychiatrists. He was required to meet with them several times a year to make sure he was still nuts (his words). These meetings caused him severe anxiety and he was physically ill in the days leading up to and after the appointments. He always feared his disability rating would be lowered.
I’ll admit I don’t hold those who treat mental disorders in the highest regard. After he died I had to stop by his psychiatrist’s office and she stared at me like I was a monkey in cage.
How Goes the Battle? 