Tuesday, August 25, 2020



Last night I received your demanding e-mail. 

"Unblock my number or never talk to me again."

First of all, you can not threaten me into talking to you.

Secondly, we have an agreement. We talk once a week. 

It’s been going great until…

-You blew past boundaries with your dad by calling repetitively during his work hours. 

-You knocked over boundaries with your brother, Blue, killing the "Do Not Disturb" on his phone while he was trying to sleep. 

On Sunday after our pleasant conversation, one of the hundreds of pep talks that I’ve given you about autism and the superpowers it brings. The ability to hyper-focus on what you really want to focus on. The ability to self-teach, as you have done with roller coaster design software, professional video editing, changing your diet, meal prepping, and exercising in order to lose over 100 pounds. The ability to learn in unique ways, and see the world differently than most people. 

After we talked you began messaging me, asking questions about one subject, and then another, and then another...problem. I was on my way to have dinner. I refused to continue the exchange after several messages. 

After a warning, “the block" went back on my phone until the next time we are scheduled to talk again. 

I can't stay angry with you. That's not how I'm made.

I know that autism, mental illness, and self-loathing are the culprits underneath these behaviors. 

I can and must, however, maintain my boundaries for the sake of my own mental health. 

It is tenuous these days. 

There have been too many years of this.

I have allowed you to run all over my boundaries to the point where I became depressed and full of anxiety.

I reached a point of almost not functioning. 

I can not do that anymore. 

I can not continue this trajectory. 

I can not be the answer to all problems. 

The plethora of resources that you have in our extended family must be used unless, and until you get to a point where you can actually be the independent, self-reliant man that I know you can be. 

Saying, “No. Not anymore,” is one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. And when it comes to you, I have done some very difficult things. 

It takes energy and strength to say no when your own heart is bleeding. 

Deep down I know that someday I will not be here. 

I can not be the solver of all problems. 

I will not always be your soft place to fall.

You will have to seek help from other sources or you will fall...hard. 

The first source you need is yourself. 

You are the key to your future.

You will come out of this stronger. 

You will have the strength to fix things yourself.

I love you.

And yes. I am sure you can do this.