When I was little and got sick I didn't always stay home. My dad would come in my bedroom and ask for a percentage. If I was feeling less than 50% myself, I might get to stay home. I remember very clearly him giving me the "you don't always feel your best but you go in anyway" speech. Of course, this was for physical symptoms.
Dad was also my soccer coach. I was the young player who concentrated more on picking flowers and doing cartwheels rather than protecting the goalie. But when I did concentrate and got hurt in the process, dad's answer was a gentle punch on the arm and "walk it off."
Imagine my dad's response, 20 some years later, if I told him the truth...that I've been signed off work by my GP for four weeks due to stress. Nope. Although he wouldn't give me the speech or the gentle punch on the arm, he'd be thinking it.
I love my parents very much. They've tried, mom especially, to understand what it means to have a daughter who has been diagnosed as bipolar. But I don't think they get it, really.
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