For years, I had spent more time sitting in the corner of my bedroom and crying. I couldn’t say why I was crying, or why I couldn’t stop. I just knew that I felt so sad and alone that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to live or die. Dad came up to my bedroom one afternoon. He said nothing, but he sat down on the floor and pulled me into a hug. He told me he remembered going through the same thing when he was a teenager. His doctor suggested he tried antidepressants, Dad said he hated taking antidepressants, but he wasn’t huddled in the room’s corner all the time. Now, all he was doing was sleeping all the time. I hated I was laughing, but dad always knew what to say to make me feel better. He asked if I wanted to try medical marijuana. There were a lot of new studies out that made it sound like medical marijuana may be better for depression than anything else. It had to be used responsibly, and only as directed, but if I wanted, he would help me get the medical marijuana card, and he would be the caretaker. I never thought dad would help me get medical marijuana without talking to mom first. He told me to let him handle mom, but he was getting me medical marijuana for my depression. I finally felt like there was hope for me and the depression I was experiencing. Mom came up later that evening and told me she had an appointment with the doctor the next afternoon. She had already discussed medical marijuana with him.
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