Dear Frank, I recognise much of myself, my father and my brother, my own childhood and how heart-breaking: that of my children in your story. I’m nearing 60, my brilliant and deeply emotionally disturbed father is nearing 90; lately, I’ve been struggling to get him diagnosed with Asperger’s and ADHD and into the healthcare system because I fear the treatment that will befall him when my equally brilliant and exhausted mother can no longer stand between him and society, or indeed between him and himself. As for me, I am a barely practising psychologist and EFT practitioner, doing excellent work when I do work, which is by far not often enough because indeed, I am hardly capable of juggling life’s demands. I tried all sorts of meds, and none have worked well enough to take their adverse effects into my stride. I ruined my marriage. My children did not have the childhood they deserved and could have had if I (and my spouse!) had been diagnosed and had received help during these years – I only realised my ADD a few years ago. I hope to come to acceptance, but I still mourn my children’s loss and mine daily. Today, I’m in a constant battle with stimulants and indulgences and self-medication. I manage, but only by the skin of my teeth. What I lack most in life is joy, and maybe a sense of freedom, since I seem to have to live life on the brake, which hardly seems worthwhile a lot of the time. I seem to be getting more depressed and it feels that it’s only the care for others that keeps me from throwing in the towel, whatever that may look like. My brother has been a fully-fledged alcoholic all these years. We were the only siblings and could never get along and avoided each other like the plague for the past 40, 45 years. In an hour or so – I know I will be late – we’re going for a walk. Our first time walking together, maybe our first time alone since childhood. I hope to be able to tell him I love him and understand his lifestyle, although I fear I may not get past his pathological comic act, which, witty as it may be at times, saddens me deeply. I wish I had more to offer to you, Frank, than the fact that I sympathise and understand; more than just my own story and my maybe not so very helpful suggestion that drinking oneself to death is always an option; in other words: it helps me to consider it a free choice. EFT has helped me most of all singular practices and methodologies, but honestly, not quite enough on its own. I started my first course of antidepressants three days ago. Keeping my fingers crossed that it’ll help me enough to struggle forwards a little longer. Lately, I have been sleeping with music tracks with binaural beats, and listened to ADHD deep relief sounds when writing and a three day course of water fasting brought some relief too, temporarily though it may be. Well, that’s it from me. At least the sun’s out here, in my town, today. Could be worse, could be raining.