A couple of days ago I was talking to my dad on the phone. He was put out with me because I didn't call him on Christmas. I told him I've been having a rough time of it lately and just didn't feel like talking to anyone, and it wasn't personal. He said he was proud and relieved that I admitted that.

Well, I've certainly never denied it, and I thought about telling him it was part of my PTSD and depression - that sometimes I just want to crawl under a rock and hide from the world when I'm having a bad day - but what would be the point? I'm 52 years old and have had these problems since I can remember so you would think at some point my loved ones (not just my dad, but my husband, siblings, etc.) would try to understand (impossible, I know, but a girl can dream) why I do what I do and that I have unbearable anxiety, but no one has ever asked or tried to educate themselves. I guess it's just easier for them to believe I'm just rude or whatever instead of believing there might actually be reasons I am the way I am that has nothing to do with them.

OK, pity party over.