After spending about 3 years building up the courage to talk to my dad about my mental health, I told him I have BPD and as a result, depression.

He said 'yeah? Right. What the fuck do you have to be depressed about?' and dismissed it. Never spoken about it since (another 2 years).

In case you wondered, my mother and father split up when I was 6, and I lived with my dad. During this time, my mum had a drug addiction spiraling out of control and had sold all of my nan's jewelery to fund it. She then started 'trading sex' (being raped but keeping quiet about it) in exchange for drugs. She got pregnant, they done a, let's say, home abortion. The final straw was when I was about 12, my mum had been beaten to within an inch of her life for about the 8th time (that we knew about). Turns out, my dad had been her emergency contact the whole time. I spent the ages of 6-12 raising a full grown man who was depressed to the point of sitting in the dark for 12 hours a day, and sleeping for the other 12. Our flat was filthy, social services were called twice (once about the flat, once about my dad hitting me because I put my shoes on the wrong feet before school). My dad abandoned my mum and it fucked us up, I don't know if I can hold a grudge because of that, I assume he was protecting me, but every single day I wonder how different our lives would be if we stuck together.

I knew none of this at the time, I've found out in stages since, mostly in the last 4-5 years. My parents are back together and I love them both, my dad has his own issues and I don't hate him for what he said, but it hurts knowing I can't talk to him about it

What do I have to be depressed about again?