My dad was diagnosed with depression when I was 15. He was like a stranger to me, he became this weird dad acting like a little boy: screaming, losing his temper, breaking objects but the worse was when he insulted us or showed big disappointment in us. For many years, I was really mad at my dad, insomuch that I was hating him, hoping that he would disappear of my life. My sisters and I couldn’t talk about it to anyone, my family didn’t know and no one explained to us what was going on. I was the oldest and I was trying to support my sisters. I was feeling alone in the world, not connected to anyone anymore.
The first time I talked about the situation to someone outside of my closest friends was to a doctor. I was 18, the situation was getting a little bit better, my dad was under medication and accepting some help. I remember saying to the doctor that my dad died three years earlier. She did not help much, in fact. But my mum had the most comforting and enlightening point: when I asked her why she was staying with my dad she told me that he didn’t mean to act like that, he wasn’t himself but just a sick person that needed help, and mostly from his family. It sounds obvious and cliché today but I was 18 at the time and very confused… After this day I was able to accept my dad, accept his apologies that came a few years after and start to reconnect with him. Today, it has been 9 years, my dad is getting much better and we are getting closer and closer everyday even if I had to move out of my country, to get some space in order to totally understand the situation.
Looking back, I wish that someone explained to me, as a little girl, what was happening and taught me how to help him instead of reject him. I am very thankful to my younger sister who had the strength to stay close to him, listen to him and always be there for him. And I have to say, I could not dream of a better father (and a better mother, because she held the family together).
–Anonymous
The Ah Project 