Oh yeah, if I'd done it she'd absolutely tell me I was overreacting. I once mentioned having acrophobia to her (I couldn't look down from the second story of a building without panic) and she snapped at me that it only counts if I couldn't look down while sitting in a chair. This was her idea on mental illness - unless you literally spend all day unable to get out of bed you're fine. Of course, when I actually did have points when I was too depressed to get out of bed, she told me I was just lazy. She literally stopped me in the middle of a suicide attempt, I mean, walked in on me with a knife at my throat, and didn't think I had any problems. When I got an official diagnosis some time later (long story, the school refused to let me back in until she took me to a psychiatrist) she didn't do anything. Except laugh when my siblings made suicide jokes about me.