"Only babies cry."

It all started when I was eight years old. My sister, who is four years older than me, and I had spent the evening arguing over some not so import things. Like most children, we had our sibling rivalries. But this particular argument set my father off, and when I bring the subject up to him now a days he doesn't even remember. But I do. Oh God, how I remember.

My father pulled my sister and me off each other and sent me to my room as punishment. I wasn't angry about his decision, but I was upset and crying.

My sister was definitely the golden child, while I was always the black sheep. Our rooms were next to one another, connected by our closets. After I was sent to my room, I could hear her on the phone with her friend through the thin walls of our connected closest. She was complaining about me, saying some really hurtful things. I vividly remembering sitting under all my hanging clothes, crying about all the horrible things my sister said about me. 

I guess I was really loud because only moments later my father burst into my room and threw open the closest door and began to scream a million things. But one thing he said sticks with me to this day.

"Don't fucking cry. Only babies cry."

This was the day that my now-eleven year journey with depression began. 

Be careful what you say to your children. You could be setting them up on a date with the monsters that live inside their head, waiting to be released from their jail.