Site Title✦ ADHD | Autism | Emotional Processing | Trauma Healing ✦

There are some days as a father that don’t look like anything special from the outside.

No medals.

No milestones.

No perfect Instagram pictures.

Just a garage,

a stubborn old dirt bike,

and a boy who thinks the world of his dad.

Yesterday, my son and I spent the whole day

trying to get his 1990 Honda XR80R running.

Two trips to the store.

Twenty times tearing down the carburetor.

Gas-streaked hands, scraped knuckles,

and a whole lot of,

“Okay, let’s try again.”

We didn’t fix it.

The engine wouldn’t start.

But here’s the thing:

that wasn’t the point.

In our world — what we call our play bubble —

I am Big Back.

That’s what he calls me,

because I’m the one he leans on,

the one he knows will carry him,

not just in the garage,

but through the hard, silent, unseen moments of life.

Like when we shaved our heads together this summer.

For me, it was routine.

For him, it was adventure.

At first, we laughed,

two matching bald heads in the mirror.

But then came the stares.

Then came the regret.

And one day, softly from the backseat,

he asked,

“Dad… can you take off your hat?”

I understood.

Now, when we go out,

I leave the hat at home.

Not because he needs to ask.

Because I want him to know:

“You’re not alone in this.

I will stand beside you, bare-headed, shoulders wide.

Big Back has got you.”

But it’s not just the hair.

And it’s not just the dirt bike.

It’s the back scratches.

Every night, every afternoon,

he asks,

“Dad, can you scratch my back?”

Not because it’s itchy.

But because that’s how he calms.

That’s how his nervous system settles.

That’s how he knows,

without words,

that he is safe.

My hands on his back tell him what the world can’t:

“I am here.

You are held.

You are home.”

We didn’t fix the dirt bike.

We didn’t escape the stares.

We didn’t make the world softer.

But we did this:

We showed up.

We stood beside each other.

We scratched each other’s backs,

in the way only a father and son in a broken, beautiful world can.

🌿 To my son:

You are the best thing I have ever been part of building —

more than any engine,

more than any project,

more than any version of myself I thought I had to become.

You don’t have to be unafraid.

You don’t have to be unscarred.

You don’t have to walk alone.

Big Back’s got you.

Bare-headed.

Knuckles scraped.

Heart wide open.

Always.

💛 **For you son, forever.

From Big Back.**