Sick of Dad

At this point, I'm really just sick and tired of my dad. He claims to be on good terms with my mom, but it's clear he's not. He's constantly making us late getting home when he has us for the weekend. He pushes for more time. He shouts at us. And he lies to his family about my mom and her family. He's not as good of a father as he likes to think he is and they're clearly not on good terms.  And you know what else bothers me about him? Throughout my entire childhood, he's been trying to apply labels to me, always thinking there was something wrong with me. And he never thought to talk to me to figure it out. At one point, I'd seen a friend choke and it made me afraid to eat. I'd chew, then spit it into my napkin when no one was looking. He thought I was anorexic. He never spoke to me about it or got a therapist. Afterwards, when I started eating again, I gained weight slowly but surely. He thought I was bulimic. Again, no talking, no therapist. And now I'm depressed. I'm giving him all the signs and he doesn't see a thing. After years of trying to diagnose me with every disorder under the sun, he can't recognize when something is really wrong. Of course, I've been trying to hide it too. I can't let people see. It's contradictory, I know. But still, I can't help it. And he needs to be better at his job. Being a Dad.
                                                                   ~The Blogging Fangirl