My Dad tries so hard to do the right thing, but he doesn't know how.
I woke up at 9am, took my meds, and played with Fishbone in my room. I went back into bed to wait until my Dad left the house. around 11am, I couldn't stay in bed any more, so I let Fishbone out again and watched. My Dad opened the door to my room (he never learned to knock or know that closed doors mean I don't want to be bothered). He saw Fishbone, but surprisingly didn't say anything about her. He hounded me to go to the DMV and not to drive my car because I'm uninsured. I sat there waiting for him to get through with his speech and leave. Seeing how I wasn't saying anything he kept goin on and on (thinking that if he went on long enough I would listen to him?).
Just as I was about to say "enough already" he turned to leave. Whew, I didn't have to explode. Oh, no, he's turning back around. Yack, yack, yack. Silence from me. Yack somemore. I look at him like I think he's psycho. He either doesn't care or has no idea what I'm thinking. He leaves (at last). Ten minutes later he comes back and the whole thing repeats. This time he's hitting his head on my shelf "reminding" me that that is what I'm doing with my life(=not facing reality and thus not getting better). Seeing him hit his head is supposed to make me feel like I should do something?! Why does he think that I'm lost in a fantasy world? He says I should use my stubborness to overcome my depression (instead of being stubbornly against his suggestions?).
I was really annoyed for a little bit, but then I realized that I do need to contact the DMV. I'll do that after I get off the computer and before I go tutor. I felt much more calm after I thought about what he was trying to do versus what he ended up doing because he just doesn't know that his actions tend to produce the opposite of what he intends to do.
I still don't like to come down stairs before he's out of the house though. It's just a hassle to put up with his ranting and raving. Poor guy. He's trying.
Just as I was about to say "enough already" he turned to leave. Whew, I didn't have to explode. Oh, no, he's turning back around. Yack, yack, yack. Silence from me. Yack somemore. I look at him like I think he's psycho. He either doesn't care or has no idea what I'm thinking. He leaves (at last). Ten minutes later he comes back and the whole thing repeats. This time he's hitting his head on my shelf "reminding" me that that is what I'm doing with my life(=not facing reality and thus not getting better). Seeing him hit his head is supposed to make me feel like I should do something?! Why does he think that I'm lost in a fantasy world? He says I should use my stubborness to overcome my depression (instead of being stubbornly against his suggestions?).
I was really annoyed for a little bit, but then I realized that I do need to contact the DMV. I'll do that after I get off the computer and before I go tutor. I felt much more calm after I thought about what he was trying to do versus what he ended up doing because he just doesn't know that his actions tend to produce the opposite of what he intends to do.
I still don't like to come down stairs before he's out of the house though. It's just a hassle to put up with his ranting and raving. Poor guy. He's trying.