"Just a phase."

Sophomore year of high school, I was well into my depression and struggling to find a reason to keep going. The first person I confided in was my dad, and he assured me that he'd help me find a therapist. 

Fast forward to a few months later, and my mom and stepdad were the ones who were helping me to find the help I so desperately needed. 

My dad finally attended a session with me, and afterwards he admitted to me in the car that he thought that my depression was "just a phase," and that he had never actually looked for help for me. 

It's been nearly 6 years, and I still don't think he takes me seriously.