(no subject)
I... I can't believe that. Today was ok. I felt legitimately ok for the first time in weeks. I was even able to eat lunch without throwing up. Granted my doctor's appointment and subsequent tests were the most horrible to date and involved me crying in the waiting room and nearly peeing on the gurney. But that's ok. Then I get home. And my father decides that since I'm not in the middle of a faux heart-attack, that that was the perfect time... to blame me for everything that's going on with me physically. He sat there and kept repeating this sick mantra "if you exercised all your problems would go away. you're lazy. you have 16 hours in the waking day, why can't you get off your ass?" All while I slowly broke down into a shivering pile. When he finally went away I crawled into the tub and cried underwater. Because god forbid he knows I'm upset, he'll just keep on lecturing about how weak I am.
Is it just me? Was that not the most cruel, poorly-timed, EVIL thing he could have done after seeing me smile for the first time in WEEKS?
Again. I hate him.
Is it just me? Was that not the most cruel, poorly-timed, EVIL thing he could have done after seeing me smile for the first time in WEEKS?
Again. I hate him.