When my mom was alive I went for a few months to a child psychologist. It was helpful. I was going because I would have sever pain when running in gym class and fall down. After having a few blood tests it was determined I was making it up for attention (which I wasn't,) so they sent me to the child psychologist. I was 12. Still no idea what was causing it to this day.

It was maybe 2 months I went to see the psychologist.

My mom was really sick and low on money due to her cancer treatment being $5,000 every few months. So, I would hear my dad yelling at her what a waste of money to take me to see the psychocologist. So, I told my mom I felt better and didn't have to go any more.

Not long after was my first suicide attempt. Which was in front of my mom. She didn't take me to the ER or another psychologist or anything. She just went and lay down on her bed, which I think was her giving up on life. It was before my 13th birthday, within 8 months of that she passed away. I still to this day hold the guilt that I snapped the last will of hope for her to live.

So, after that what? Nothing. If I would tell my dad I needed help he would say "You're a teenager! What do you have to be depressed about? Everyone is depressed. Suck it up and shut up about it." So, I had another suicide attempt later when I was 14, home alone but it didn't work and I lived through it. I never went to the ER or even bother to tell my dad. Again when I was 16 I was suicidal but happened upon a teacher while crying and he saved me that day from another attempt. And, you know, battling all the time suicidal thoughts.

So, you know... some sort of showing that he cared would have been more than what I got as a kid.