I had a mini nervous breakdown in May that peaked near my 40th birthday. Midlife crisis, I guess, and one that is only getting better with acceptance of what my life is and what it will likely become. I'm not really any happier with my life five months on, but I have learned to accept that I alone made the choices that led to where I currently am and that I would have made very few different choices if I had it all to do over again with the knowledge I had at the time.
I called my parents sometime in April or early May after phoning my grandmother only to reach a disconnected line. I left a normal message asking if they knew what was going on, asking where my grandmother was. Noone ever called me back. In mid to late May - as my breakdown intensified - I phoned again and again all times of the morning, day and evening trying to reach them and leaving message after message on several lines, each one increasingly more desperate and teary and begging my dad to call me back. Saying that I am alone and scared, that I want to move back to the United States, that I need his help. I still have yet to hear from him.
On Father's Day, my brother was visiting dad during the two hours allotted to him on special occassions (10 am to noon) and, during that visit, told him I wanted to hear from him because I was in a bad place and wanted advice, given that he had been a single parent himself at various times throughout our childhood. He was generally creeped out by my dad's response and told me that dad just looked straight ahead the whole time and never said a word or even changed facial expression. He said it was like dad didn't even speak the same language, like what my brother said never even registered.
And here I am, still waiting for something I know will never come. I guess the key is in accepting that as well.