No idea why I thought trying to educate my parents on my depression would work

Yesterday, I compiled all the posts I’ve made on my mental illnesses into one notes document, editing things out and editing things in when I needed to, in a final attempt to get my parents to understand the full scope of my declining mental health, because no matter what, they always play it off as an excuse for my "laziness" and something I can just power through because "we’re all a little depressed/anxious."
 
I don’t know why I even thought it’d work. 
Despite how in-depth I was, adding paragraphs more to my short essays to really get into the nitty-gritty of it all while dumbing it down as much as I could so it could be as digestible as humanly possible, the most she had to say was, "the writing is really good." No matter what, she can’t see anything beyond the surface level. I had pages on just how much I hate being seen as just my academics and how them taking a nosedive because of my mental health doesn’t make me the failure she sees me as, yet, once again, it all just goes back to that.
 
She didn’t even bother listening to what I was describing and the countless times I called her out on her verbal and emotional manipulation and abuse, all she saw was the fucking academics. That's all it goes back to for her: school, school, school. God knows why I even thought I'd be able to drill the message into her head; she's shown multiple times how stubborn and thick-skulled she is when it comes to anything that opposes her skewed worldview. I could've written a manifesto on how I wanted to behead a group of malnourished Victorian children, and she'd still say, *“the part where you went into detail about their nerve-endings was good, though the ending where you described how the urges keep getting wrong every day was rushed.”*

Did she even read past the first paragraph? I had a whole section just dedicated to how this way of thinking is so harmful, but she still, *still*, can't grasp it. Did she just skim the times I said, "[...] yet they still put this torturous pressure on me for what? Some sick pleasure? Because it’s "mental health matters" until it isn’t palatable anymore? So they can brag to their group chat that their kid, who's living every day as a husk, got straight A’s?" or "I could be on the brink of offing myself, and you’d still scream about my marks this quarter."

I'm so sick of this. It's almost funny how, despite how much of my writing was about how constant academic pressure from her only served to make things worse, she continued to only look at how it related to school. She just can't listen; it's like it's impossible for her to actually think about what she's reading, and it's infuriating. The cherry on top was her reply to me asking if she actually marinated on what the compilation was about like she said she would: "Yes? How are you going to tell me what *I* read?"

Okay, sure.

(Shout-out to my dad for leaving me on read when I sent him the link to the doc and asked him to check it out)