I have been snapping at people ALL DAY. The tiniest thing has been setting me off, and I feel horrible for it but I can't help it. My mom and I went to a wedding today and I was the designated driver (mostly because alcohol doesn't help my depression and with the meds I'm on even having a single drink tends to make me feel sick). I'd left my glasses at home so when my mom asked if I'd be her DD, I told her that as long as we left while it was still light out, I didn't mind driving home, but I hate driving in the dark without my glasses. She said that was fine. As we were leaving, she got talking to my aunt and I snapped at her that I wanted to drive home with some daylight left and she'd better get in the car or I was leaving without her. Then on the way, she told me to make a detour to find the building where my brother starts his driving lessons on Monday so she'd know where to take him when she dropped him off. Her directions, her insisting that there was supposed to be a sign over the door even though they didn't have a sign when I was at that school (they've gotten a sign since then, and being wrong just made me even more crabby), her making me drive in the wrong direction for ten minutes then making me turn around and go back, then telling me that the route I was taking home was long and there was a shortcut I could take... I wanted to pull the car over and tell her to walk home. I wanted to scream at her. I BARELY contained myself -- when she asked why I wasn't taking the short cut home I did manage enough control to lie and say it was because I wanted to stop for a coffee on the way home (there are no street lights on the short cut and I already didn't have my glasses and it was getting dark because she'd made me waste the little daylight we had left, but I wouldn't have been able to explain that calmly) and I bought her one too, because I felt guilty for snapping at her when she wasn't really doing anything horribly wrong. I almost snapped at her about thirty seconds later -- can't remember why, probably just for taking up oxygen, I was in such a bad mood -- but I stopped myself mid-sentence, apologized, and explained that my depression has been making me say a lot of things I don't mean lately. I've apologized in advance for future blow-ups I'm sure to have, since I can't get in to see the doctor for a couple more weeks.

When we got home, my dad was sitting outside smoking a cigar (he smokes maybe three a year as some kind of treat for himself) and the smoke made me cough and I jumped down his throat about that. Then I realized I'd left my coffee in my car, stomped off to get it, came back and snapped at my dad about the cigar again even though he was in the middle of saying something to my mom. I snapped at him a couple more times for no reason tonight, then realized what I was doing and tried to apologize again. I know that the reason I'm doing this is that my depression is starting to get the best of me. I'm trying to deal with it. I've made a doctor's appointment. I'm going to get a referral for a therapist. I'm taking my meds and eating/sleeping healthily and journalling in order to keep myself semi-calm. I'm trying to minimize the impact it has on the people around me, and apologize for my behaviour when I step out of line. I told my dad that I wanted to apologize in advance because I'm pretty likely to be very unpleasant for the next couple of weeks, and he told me that I just had to practice self-control and not use my depression as an excuse.

Now I'm really mad. I BARELY stopped myself from screaming. I'm sorry, but I'm not "using my depression as an excuse" -- it really IS the reason behind my behaviour. I AM practising as much self-control as I can by stopping myself whenever I can and apologizing for my bad moods or any hurtful things they might make me say. I HAVE NO MORE CONTROL THAN THAT. What does he think I have, an on/off switch for my depression? If I could control it 24/7, I WOULD NOT BE DEPRESSED.

I am not and have never been a drama queen. My dad seems to think I have a flare for the melodramatic. It drives me crazy because my overreactions, my poor temper, my crying fits ... they are results of my DEPRESSION, my ILLNESS. They are SYMPTOMS, not some kind of personality defect.

I know he hates talking about it. I know he has been struggling to be supportive and understand my depression. I know that he's never really been able to understand mental illness and I'm grateful for how hard he's trying to be good to me and look after me as best he can. I don't bring it up that often because I know how hard it is for him to talk about it, and when I do, I'm not expecting him to bend over backwards. All I'm asking for is a little patience and understanding because my illness has flared up. I was trying to APOLOGIZE and now I feel like I've been attacked, like my depression has been brushed off and like he's forgotten all the research he did -- all on his own as soon as he found out about my diagnosis -- and thinks this can be overcome by sheer willpower. I'm not asking to be coddled. All I wanted was for him to say, "I understand that you're not yourself right now and I forgive you." But no. Clearly I'm just not trying hard enough.