Dear Robi,

(I’ve highlighted certain words in uppercase to emphasize your own reflections.)

June 8-10, 2018: “I still feel uncomfortable around them and I still don’t feel CONNECTION. Knowing this now makes me feel a little hopeless, to be honest. Feels big and hard to deal with… I guess I never felt very CLOSE to my parents. I was very attached to them as a child (very young, barely remember something), but as I grew up, I started liking them less and less—to the point of being against them when it comes to pretty much everything… I used to minimize whatever was happening on my computer every time they entered the room. I don’t know why… Maybe I was trying to keep something for myself.”

December 7, 2018: *”My parents really seem to be… BORING AND BORED. They have been like that pretty much since I can remember. My father… was never involved in anything. He never did sports, never had hobbies outside of work, never seemed to have much content… He was just sitting around. He never encouraged me to do any sports or learn any skills. He never encouraged me to help others. He always told me to STAY AWAY and mind my own business…

My mom had more of an adventurous spirit… I would describe both of them as anxious and DISCONNECTED. MY FATHER NEVER MADE EYE CONTACT WITH ME. They’ve been sitting around, looking at others enjoying their lives, accepting this role of being observers—daring perhaps, but inactive. I guess they chose the simple but, as you said, minimal and unfulfilling way.

And that is definitely not the way I want my journey to be.”

June 11, 2025: “Escapism is still here—in different forms, but still present. These days, I’ve been obsessing over getting the right sunglasses… I’ve spent almost a month researching, trying on, ordering, sending back. I felt like if I don’t ‘solve’ this, I cannot move on. I’ve spent countless hours looking at reviews and overthinking whether I should get Ray-Bans or Persols…

My parents have always been like that, and I used to notice it. The thing is, I didn’t know it was emotional suppression I was noticing. What I saw was DISCONNECTION from others and THE LACK OF CONNECTION between them. I often felt they acted stiff and uncomfortable around each other. Myself included.

My mother hasn’t been fine recently… She’s having both breathing and heart problems, and she has to sleep wearing an oxygen mask. It does hurt me. It really does. For years, I’ve been afraid her situation would get worse—and I see that it is. Both of them are slowly declining. She will have to lose weight and start eating better, and I want to try to help her.

I found a horizontal bicycle for her, and my dad and I will pick it up on our way back from the airport. I’m a certified personal trainer after all… so I do know a thing or two about losing weight and eating well. I can try. I know this might not change anything… but I have to try.

I sometimes tell myself it’s okay. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke. I don’t take any drugs, and I don’t stuff myself with food. Of course, it’s not ideal, but I’m not willing to numb myself with alcohol or anything else—so if I had to choose, I guess I’ll go with the Persols. But maybe I can do better than that still.”—

At the core of Robi1992 is a boy who loves his mother, a boy who loves his father, a boy who suffered DISCONNECTION and the emotional isolation that came with it. A boy who wants so badly to help his parents CONNECT—to each other and to him.

This is a core experience that needs to be grieved, because there is nothing you can do—nothing you could ever have done—to change the disconnection you were born into. It was NOT your fault. It was none of your doing.

Your preoccupation with sunglasses—the buying, returning, researching—is a process you can control. It creates structure when other areas of life, especially your relationships with your parents and their relationship with each other, are entirely outside your control. The sunglasses are a compulsive distraction—a way to avoid deeper emotional processing of the DISCONNECTION you were born into.

But here’s the truth: You were powerless over that disconnection then. Any child in your place would have been. And grieving that powerlessness is how you begin to claim power over what is available to you now.

I also want to share something that might offer some comfort: I know two people in real life who sleep with oxygen masks every night. One is a 62-year-old woman who has been using hers for years and remains in good overall health. The other is a 76-year-old man who wears his oxygen mask every night and never goes anywhere without it. He has lived this way for decades—still socializing, engaging with others, and finding moments of joy in life.

Sending you warmth, Robi. 💛

Anita

Dear me 🙁:

I remember when you first started this thread almost 11 months ago, sharing about your father’s diagnosis in July 2024 and the deep toll it was taking on you. You carried so much—his care, the uncertainty, the emotional exhaustion. And now, here you are, facing the moment you dreaded, the reality of his passing.

I can imagine the pain and loss you’re feeling right now. But one thing remains true—you showed up for your father through it all. The nurses said you did an amazing job, and that didn’t change. You were there for him in ways that mattered.

Before he was sedated earlier this month, you told him you loved him and apologized for anything that may have upset him. And in return, he told you he loves you—forever. That moment is so profound. It was his final reassurance to you, a love that remains beyond his passing.

It’s okay not to have answers right now, me. Grief is overwhelming, and surviving it isn’t something you have to figure out all at once. Just take things moment by moment, however you need to. You’re not alone in this. Whenever you feel like sharing, whether here on this thread or in a new one, you’re always welcome to express yourself. If it helps with your grief and recovery, know that this space is here for you.

Sending you warmth and strength. ❤️

Anita