Sunday, January 30, 2011

Yeah, so I walk into my dads and within the first 10 seconds of seeing him, not even exaggerating, I'm yelled at, I burst into tears and swear at him for the first time in my life. He shouts at me for 'crying woman's tears' and sends me to my room where I sit crying my lungs out for an hour and a half, then just when I've stopped again, he comes in and fucks up my dam, and we talk.

Now he knows everything. Not that he gives a shit.

First reaction when I said it?
Well, here's the conversation.
"You had a bad morning? I have bad mornings all the time. I have chronic depression Brittany, and it's not really like you can go running to your room and crying about it every time something bad happens. I mean, you've got to learn to-"
Tears are streaking down my face even though I'm telling myself to stop being such a pussy and stop crying. I'm fucking hysterical and I can't stop the words coming out of my mouth. "Fuck you Dad. You wanna know something, you really fucking wanna know something? Two fucking years ago I was diagnosed with cllinical depression. I've tried to kill myself four times. You aren't the fucking only one, I know what it's l-"
He holds his arms out as a 'what' type of gesture.
Heavily sarcastic. "Well, thanks for telling me."

So we go on to talk about him, and compare my situation to his, and yeah, apparently because I'm a teenager and a woman I get overly emotional and my depression isn't as severe.

He blames it on my exercise habits, my mother, my lack of friends and my personality, that it's hereditary and because he has it there's a strong possibility I will. Not once does he say it just maybe could be anything to do with him.

So four years of bottling up shit, two years of that being pretty damn serious... and he blames it on something else when he does find out.

What is probably one of the most significant moments of my life, perhaps the most significant, registers as "this is bad, tell her to do something about it then forget about it and move on" in his brain. His advice? Get help. Go swimming. Join a group. Don't be depressed.
Little bit harder than it sounds, Dad.

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