What my dad doesn’t understand

Depression, Anxiety, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and an eating disorder.

Or as my dad likes to call it “Overreacting” “Chicken Littleing” “Being a baby” and “Trying to get attention”.

I try to explain to him that my depression isn’t me overreacting. My depression is sitting in a room full of my friends who all swear they love me and want to be my friends but still feeling as if they all hate me. It’s waking up after sleeping for ten hours and all I want to do is go back to sleep because if I’m awake I have to face life. Life wasn’t cut out for me. I can’t go through the day without believeing that I’d be better off dead. I pray every day that maybe I’ll fall down the stairs and break my neck or have such a bad panic attack that it will turn into a heart attack because life is scary, but my mind is scarier. Every day I go through this constant pain of not being good enough or being hated or even just wanting to fall off a building for no reason. It’s just my mind goes to crazy conclusions and it like’s to outrun itself. So maybe I am overreacting for sleeping all of Saturday but maybe just maybe I’m actually depressed.

Panic it’s the first thing I do when I wake up “Did I miss my alarm?” “What if the clock is off?” “What if the bus came early again?” I go through the thoughts doing everything I can to try to reasure myself as I get ready for school “Does this shirt really go with these pants?” “Will people make fun of me if I wear this old Girl Scout T-shirt?” “What will people think if I wear a bun for the third day in a row” I finally decide I look decent enough and I’m off to school. Once I get there it’s a different story. “Did they jsut point at my dress and laugh?” “What if none of my friends are here today?” “What will people think if I eat this second muffin?” I move on and start my school day but soon realize my phone is broken again. “What if mom try’s to call me?” “Dad’s gonna be so mad. Why couldn’t I remember to turn it off” “What if Anna got hurt? and Lori can’t tell me” The panic continues through out the day and once I get home still panicking. My dad looks at me and says “Stop”Chick Littleing””With an annoyed expression. God I wish it was just “Chicken Littleing.”

My little cousin asks me if I want to make cookies. Of course I do I love baking but all I can think is what if I get something under my nails and I can’t clean it off fast enough? Then I’ll have a panic attack and if I have a panic attack then I’ll have to count. I’m not supposed to count. They say I’m not allowed to use counting as a coping skill but, God all I can do is count when I panic because if I focus hard enough I can see the numbers as I say them and if I can see the numbers I feel better. Then my hands don’t feel gross and I don’t feel like I’m going to explode. They say I can’t but they can’t tell me I can’t because at least i’m not screaming and shaking for no reason at 3 in the morning. I’m just counting the tiles on the kitchen floor and watching as the numbers show up as I do. Then my dad finds me there at three am with greasy fingers from the pizza I tried to eat counting the floor tiles so I don’t scream and wake him up. “Savana Stop, Go to bed”He says but I shake my head and keep on counting because if I can just get to 222 then everything will be okay. “Savana stop being a baby wash your hands and go to bed”He says. I wish I could stop being a baby. I wish I could just do stuff when I want to but if I can’t get to 222 and see the numbers all light up so I can feel better. Then I’ll just have to be a baby.

He gets home and asks me what I ate “Cereal” He rolls his eyes saying “I need to eat healthier”, but what you don’t seem to be able to understand is. If I ate healthier I would just puke it all up because it gets inside my stomach and makes me feel all gross. Until I’m gagging myself so I can feel better. “That’s all I’m comfortable with today”I reply. “Just eat some meat”I wish it was that easy. You telling me what to eat, me eating it then not feeling gross because you told me to do it. Unfortunately it doesn’t work like that.”I’ll just throw it up”I reply making you glare at me”Stop trying to get attention!” I wish I did it for attention. Then I could stop once I had the attention. Unfortunately this is all chemical imbalances in my brain that make me this way something you can’t fix with a few words. I wish it were that easy.


2 thoughts on “What my dad doesn’t understand

  1. Are you getting the medical treatment you need? If you could get a doctor or therapist he or she can explain the medical aspect to your dad.
    Your dad is being horrible and I hope you can get support somewhere.
    I needed help when I was younger and it too me years to seek out medical treatment, partially because I had ignorant relatives and others who didn’t understand that that depression, anxiety, OCD has a huge biological component.
    I am crossing my fingers for you! Hang in there and be aggressive about making sure you get medical care and support.


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