They Made Me Pretend I Was Fine. Then I Jumped.
Language: en
At my grandmother’s eightieth birthday banquet, my hands trembled from a severe somatic depression flare-up, and I knocked over a teacup. My own mother slapped me across the face, her eyes filled with disgust. “You ill-mannered brat, how dare you bring bad luck on a day like this?” The room full of relatives snickered, watching the spectacle. My aunt, my father’s sister, remarked sarcastically, “Honey, don’t be mad. She’s mentally ill, you know. Clumsy hands are normal.” I felt icy all over, trembling as I fumbled in my purse for my diagnosis paper, trying to explain. But my father…