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

Dear Suzanne:

I reread your posts and want to acknowledge again the depth of the pain you’re experiencing.

At some point, your husband began an affair with a much younger woman, concealing certain actions during your marriage—signs of secrecy you only uncovered later. Eventually, he left you for her, despite your pleas for him to stay. His demeanor changed drastically—he became cold, distant, and completely shut you out. You later discovered through a bill that he quickly took her away on a trip, deepening the sense of betrayal. Then, on Mother’s Day last month, his family did not reach out, making you feel as though they never truly accepted you despite your 30 years of connection.

Betrayal is deeply painful, but the way he has handled it—without empathy or accountability—intensifies the cruelty. The devastation you describe isn’t just about his departure; it’s about the cold, unfeeling way he chose to leave. Emotional cruelty isn’t always loud or overt—it can exist in silence, in neglect, in the deliberate absence of care.

But he was once your family and best friend (“He was my family and best friend”).

So, what caused such a drastic change in his behavior?

It could be a midlife crisis or a desire for reinvention—some people, as they age, begin questioning their lives, searching for something new or different. A relationship with a much younger partner might make him feel youthful or help him escape the realities of aging.

It could also be fear of accountability—turning cold (“He has turned so cold”) may have been his way of avoiding guilt. If he stayed emotionally connected to you, he’d have to face the hurt he caused. Instead, shutting down allows him to move on without confronting the damage.

By doing this, he may be protecting himself from discomfort. He might also be rewriting history in his mind—convincing himself that the marriage wasn’t that great or that leaving was the right choice, even if that wasn’t true. In the end, his coldness isn’t about your worth—it’s about his unwillingness to face the consequences of his actions.

The reality may be that he made a choice for himself without considering how deeply it would harm you. Some people prioritize their desires over the emotional impact on others. It’s called being selfish.

Whatever the reason, it does not justify the pain he has caused you. You deserve clarity, healing, and the chance to rebuild without carrying the weight of his choices.

Three quotes from one of the books I listed earlier, The Wisdom of No Escape by Pema Chödrön:

“These are actually two sides of one coin: when they are put together, inspiration (or well-being), and burden (or suffering), describe the human condition.”-

We can’t have only one side of the coin. Suffering and joy are intertwined, and the path forward is not about clinging to one side and rejecting the other. As you grieve your marriage, Suzanne, please stay open to moments of comfort and small joys—whether it’s sharing a cup of coffee with a friend or taking a peaceful walk outdoors.

“You could develop your passion for life and your curiosity and your interest. You could connect with your joyfulness. You could start right now.”- Even in pain, there is room for renewal and small joys. Start where you are, even in the smallest way.

“Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life, it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat.”-

Focus on that one 🍓, that one moment of joy and comfort available to you today. Let yourself savor it, even if it’s small, instead of getting lost in yesterday’s pain. ✨💖🌟🍀

Anita