It was a Saturday morning. I was sitting in the back seat of my dad’s car. As we drove up the winding hill to our house, I blurted out, “The doctor thinks I may be depressed.” He chuckled and replied, “That’s impossible! You’re not depressed. You’re the happiest person I know.”
I knew I was depressed and I was crushed by his response. In that moment, I could feel my eyes watering and tension building up inside me. I was extremely fortunate to have been sitting in the back seat, and to not have to make eye contact with him. I surely would have lost all composure if I had been sitting in the passenger seat.
My own father, someone who has known me for my entire life, did not know I was feeling tormented on the inside. He could not see through me. He could not see through the facade.