Yesterday when I was there, my dad was breathing on his own. He opened his eyes a few times, and when he woke up, he woke up gentle and sweet.
I said, "I love you, Dad."
And he mouthed, "I love you." And took my hand and put it to his mouth to try to kiss.
He loves me. He loves us. It's not that he doesn't. He just struggles.
There are close family friends who feel angry, who feel betrayed, who feel protective and furious on our behalf.
And the truth is, I'm just sad. It's not that I'm a bigger person - we all know I'm not - and last time I was furiously rageful. Rage is understandable.
But I've worked through a lot in the intervening time. And while it breaks my heart for all of us to go through this again, it makes me abysmally sad for him. You do this out of desperation, out of clawing for some relief. You don't do this because you rationally want to abandon your loved ones.
There's nothing rational about it in the moment.
I think there are people who get this and people who don't. And there are people who don't get it and can still support you. And there are those who can't.
What I've decided is that the people I know who have never personally experienced or dealt closely with depression don't understand. I think of them as the godancers.
Because they're the people who, when you tell them you can't go out that night because you're in a bad place, are all, "Go dancing! That'll make you feel better!"
And all it makes you feel is an overwhelming urge to kick them in the teeth.
No wonder I gravitate, over and over, towards people who get it. Who have a dark side, and who don't question mine.
Nick is mainly just sunshine. He falls in the "go dancing!" category, but tries very hard to be understanding, even though he realizes he will never see the world through the same prism.
I feel lucky lucky to have him as sunshine, as a rock. And while we've exchanged some salty words, I've not kicked him in the teeth.
As if I could reach if I tried.
But I digress.
I don't even know what I'm really talking about.
The fact is, my dad is better but not as better as I thought. His heart went from very low to crazy high. They had to give him a dose of something to bring his heart rate and blood pressure back down from scary high. He has an infection. His breathing isn't strong.
In other words, he could still die.
And to these friends who are so angry about this time, and how do we know he won't just do this again? - even thought I know it comes from a place of love and protectiveness - I just want to say, could you just support us through this for a while? Could you table your anger and frustration for a bit? Or at least not hand it to me?
Because I understand the anger, really really I do, but honestly and truly, he may be your friend and you may be hurting, but it's my dad we're talking about. Give your anger to someone else right now. Because right now, I can't fucking handle another scintilla of it.
Boy, writing that down feels better. And now, my friends, I am off to the hospital.
And thank you all again for being there for me, for caring, for offering your support. Just thank you. Thank you so much.