My Dad Died and Everyone Thinks I Don't Care.
Earlier this year one week before my 19th birthday I got a phone call from my mother saying that there had been an "accident" she then drew out the process of telling my dad died. My roommate and friend for 6 years was there but as soon as I found out I ran into my room with the phone. My mom wouldn't tell me what happened she just kept saying accident, I asked her to put me on the phone with my brother who explained things to me a little more clearly. My dad shot himself 2 days ago and they hadn't been able to get in touch with me. I live in Canada now going to school and I'm 6 hours from my home in CT. I only cried for about a minute over the phone before I was able to compose myself. My mom wanted me to catch a plane back to CT, but I was having some friends come visit me that weekend so i decided I would just go back with them.
When I came out of my room my two roommates were waiting all I could say was that I needed beer, and lots of it. I know it's tacky and unhealthy but that's always how I've dealt with death. So they both went and while they were gone I paced back and forth in the apartment screaming and crying and cursing I was a mess. But as soon as I heard keys in the door I stopped and sat down. The rest of the night I drank and sat with my roommates but we didn't talk about what had happened. I didn't want to make them uncomfortable and they didn't want to push me to talk about something that I didn't want. I stayed up till 5 in the morning until I passed out. The next morning it was business as usual and I did a really good job pretending I was fine if I do say so myself. The same thing happened when my other friends came up to get me, we all pretended nothing happened.
I spent about a month back home and I didn't cry in front of anyone. Not at the funeral or the wake or the parties or even alone with my brother or mother. When I thought I was going to cry I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth it always helps me stop crying. I gave hugs and cracked jokes about how I needed to come home anyway to eat food and do laundry.
When he died I hadn't seen my father in about 4 months maybe more. At the time he was living in Martha's Vineyard, he was supposed to come visit in November.
I could go on but I think I'd rather stop there.
So almost every night and most mornings I cry by myself in my room and feel like I should have known. That if I had called him the night before he wouldn't have done it, that I could have saved him, and I didn't.
So now I'm here part of me wants to go to therapy but I have way to many personal blocks that prevent me from doing so. The most predominant reason being that I don't want my mom or brother to know just how depressed I am and have been. I had been managing it by myself but I don't think I can do it alone anymore. I don't want anyone to worry or be scared for me, but maybe part of me does? I don't know I'm confused and tired.
I just want to find other people who are going through similar situations that may have some advice. Thanks for listening, I think this is helping already.