My dear daughter,
I’m probably going to erase this letter and replace it in the future, before you have the chance to read it.
I don’t love your mother anymore. I haven’t really loved her probably since her meltdown in 2017, when I brought a beagle puppy home to try to make her happy.
I have remained by her side since then because I thought it would be extremely unfair to any woman to stay together for so many years and then deny her the chance to become a mother when she is in her final fertile years.
So I think I have remained by her side out of a sense of fairness and companionship. I suppose this is more than a regular person truly in love would do for a loved one. Also, I’ve always thought she would be a great mother.
She has had many ups and downs, she is depressed and we faced a depression crisis together when we got married and she changed jobs (from state public service to federal public service).
But since the beagle meltdown I’m not sure if her worst personality traits are the depression talking, or if they have always been there.
After you were born I thought she was going to improve, because, really, you are more important than anything else and your existence more than compensates for each and every setback of daily life.
But she prefers to hang on to hate and pettiness, she chooses conflict, she seeks dissension, she prefers to set people apart instead of trying to live a plentiful, happy and normal life.
And I’ll never forgive her if she attempts to teach you hate towards your own family.
I’m never going to leave you and I don’t plan to live in a different home while you are growing up. I intend for us to keep on living together until you are a fully formed person. Then I’m leaving your mother. She can keep the apartment and whatever money or material assets she loves so much.
I’m really, really tired of your mother being the single source of every tension, stress and anxiety in my life since we got married. I’m tired of stepping in eggshells every day, of having to jump up and down all the time to keep her happy and entertained. I’m tired of her melting down every time there’s mention of my parents, of her accusing me of not caring for her, of her offending me and her name calling in front of you. Tired of her crying and complaining how her perfect life is ruined every day, of her screaming at me in your presence.
Love,
Dad
Aspergers Dad 