thoughts on one of the x chromosome donors

I am still standing straight. At this point, I'm convinced it would take quite a lot to knock me down. I've certainly had my practice at this;) I'm pretty sensitive, and a small thing can get me down I suppose, and I don't know if it's my defense mechanisms or what--it seems like things that impact people in an emotional way (e.g. a death in the family, learning your dad is gay and having affairs with gay men he meets off of craigslist) seem to affect me in a different way.

The one annoying part is that my dad has called me crazy several times, saying I'm depressed, that he needs to move from his house and come back to the one I live in with my mother. Little does he know, I know all about his dirty little secrets, and I have no desire to live under the same roof as him. He says I'm depressed because I still don't have a job and I haven't worked on my med school secondaries like I should be, but I'm still a bit immature in that the more he nags at me to do something, the less apt I am to do it. And the whole thing is so hypocritical. I know no one ever said life was going to be fair--I'm not calling that wonderful fact of life into question. But when you see this person who makes up one genetic half of you, this person who laughs sardonically at my mother, calling her fat and all sorts of horrible things (when she's recently lost 70+ pounds), this perpetrator of years' worth of domestic violence, it really makes you sick in the pit of your stomach. And every day I have to tell myself, you're nothing like him, Katie. You're compassionate, you are kind; you are a strong woman, and you will never let him drag you down. I think a big part of the problem is that my dad has narcissistic personality disorder, which you should look up in the DSM-IV. Not only is my dad unwilling to seek psychiatric help, the prognosis for these individuals is terrible--medications don't really help, nor does psychotherapy. They just pretty much live these horrible ugly lives wherein they need to put others down and put themselves up.

A part of me is afraid that my sister might have this, too. And to be honest, though I wish to be a psychiatrist and work with patients who are seeking help and want to get better, I don't wish to live under the same roof with people who have zero self awareness and don't care how much pain and hurt they inflict upon others. It's sick, and I don't want to run the risk of becoming that way, too. I want to stay healthy.

I think moving to New York would be the best possible thing I could do for myself, yet I'm terrified when it comes to leaving my mother behind. My dad is pretty sick, and I don't think he means to be evil deep down, but the sickness makes him that way. Sometimes I daydream that my dad will snap and murder my mother, then murder me.