Saturday, November 29, 2014


My dad is depressed. He is depressed because my mother is depressed. And both of them keep telling me how hard it is to have depression. That I don't understand what it is like, that it is so hard.
I tell them. Yeah, actually, I DO know what it is like. I've been dealing with it for the last twelve years.
But my words fall on deaf ears. They can't see past themselves. It doesn't matter that visiting them causes a panic attack. I tell my sister, I have to take an anxiety pill just to visit. And she replies, have you tried Not taking a pill? Why yes, sister dear, I have, and that causes me to have a panic attack and be unable to breath.
This isn't something you can will away. It is not something you 'tie a knot' in, as my dad likes to say.
I know everyone has their own problems, and yes, the situation my parents are in sucks. My mom has basically been sick for the last four years. My dad has had to take on the responsibilities of the household (wow, your mom does A LOT, he said).
The only reason I am still talking to them right now, after the guilt trips, the fighting, the terrible daughter rants, is for my son, who loves his grandparents.
And they would rather him not visit, because seeing him and being unable to play will only make my mom more depressed.
So, what is the point of continuing? I don't know. All I do know is that I'm sick of my dad treating depression like it is this new thing that just happened and that he and my mom have it and I don't understand.
Fuck you, I do understand. I wish you could.

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