When she is depressed, she doesn’t admit it. She never discusses how she feels or asks for help. It is apparent by the state of her home and her body, but she always speaks as if everything is the same. I was molded by her behavior, so when I feel compelled to confront her about it, rather than say, “You are depressed,” I say, “Your house is dirty.” I say, “You’re not wearing lipstick.”
