I’m calling this the “Mom-pocalypse” – I didn’t uncover mom’s covert narcissism until I was 49 years old!

So, I won’t go over every nitty gritty detail of my youth, but there was this ever present feeling like I didn’t belong, like I was an outcast/outsider in my own family and extended family in Texas, where I grew up. My parents divorced when I was 15, and yes, HE was a narcissist, too – but there’s a silver lining coming, wait for it…

Once the divorce was final, my sister and I lived with my NM (narcissistic mother, but of course NOT knowing what narcissism was at this time). We were often left to fend for ourselves, the very definition of Gen X “latch key kids.”  Once we were adults, my sister and I took very different paths – she dove into college and her career. I kind of aimlessly wondered for a bit, got into trouble, involved with drugs, etc. (I’ve since corrected those things when I became a father in 2000). Throughout the next couple of decades my mother remarried multiple times, and it just became accepted that THAT was how she was…

Fast forward to the COVID pandemic. My mother is living alone in a lake house that was willed to her by her final companion, so my sister and I did the “right thing” and moved her to my sister’s place in Washington.

During this time, my sister got all of us a 23andMe DNA Testing […]

Like all parents, my father George was imperfect. He was consumed with anger – pessimism, cynicism, and rage permeated our house. His arrival from work always warned of an impending storm. He was only nice or cheerful during his nightly drinking; a predictable pattern that preceded his maudlin reminiscing that aroused his anger.   

My parents fought almost constantly, and George used the silent treatment as punishment – sometimes for weeks. I remember Mom lying in bed, arm bandaged with bruises on her face, beside a broken orange lamp that George used to attack her when I was eight or nine years old. The screaming was especially bad; I believed she was telling the truth when she said George broke her arm and the lamp in the process. The semi-repaired lamp sits in my basement today. I thought the repair was pretty clever, but never told him.

George’s “help” with homework, swathed in cigarette smoke and whiskey, consisted of yelling at how stupid modern math and I were and mocking me for crying. Several times in the 8th  grade I was excused from gym class after showing the coach the welts made by the belt he forced me to select. Often I’d lie in bed terrified, pretending to sleep, as he yanked my mother’s arm to show me the kind of woman she was. These things are burned into my memory.

George and I had a terrible relationship, and he never faced up to the truth of the reasons. He bore no responsibility; […]

May 9th of this year was a very sad day for me, as it marked a full 365 days since I was erased from my daughter’s life. The process of alienating a child from a loving parent often takes years of quietly applied maneuvering, co-dependency, coercion, and the profound altering of a child’s emotional attachment to the other parent – as was the case in my scenario. It is considered child abuse for a reason. When you take the time to re-evaluate the intricacies of your parental relationship, and that of a divorced spouse, the pattern that emerges can be quite overwhelming. I’m lucky, I wrote everything down. 

Looking back upon the dumpster fire that has been this last calendar year, I find myself waking up more days holding on to the essence of my own hope. Today, I am fully engaged with those around me and have purposely removed myself from a place of isolation. 

I’m not claiming that I’ve been saved, nor am I the savior.

I am one man, peddling nothing but facts and truth. When faced with a moral dilemma that you’ve lost something that you can never properly or organically (re)ascertain, a sense of moral awakening takes place. The embers remain in their worst place – a dark flammable corner – where one spark could cause a four-alarm blaze.

Not today. Today I have some hope. And with hope comes accountability. To concentrate on truths, hollowing out the use of excuses, take control of my own behavior, and offer […]

A father’s journey is one of perseverance. A journey where each passing day – whether bright and hopeful or dark and pressing – allows for the joys of life, the celebration of milestones, and a reckoning that as a father, you have done everything in your power to keep your child(ren) happy, healthy, and safe.

For seventeen years I was a dedicated, loving, and involved parent to my daughter. I was there for her birth, every birthday, every graduation, every parent-teacher conference, and every doctor’s appointment. I played the Easter Bunny, Santa, and the Tooth Fairy. When she was ill, I was there to nurse her back to health. As recently as a few months ago, we toured colleges and universities together. 

I gladly and willingly paid child support for a decade as it was the only way to ensure no less than 50% of parenting time. After child support orders ceased, I continued to make sure my daughter had health insurance, life insurance coverage, supplies for school, clothing, and adequate social connections (dance, softball, camp, time with extended family).

Those I have spoken to have predicated their thoughts regarding this situation by acknowledging the sacrifice a parent needs to make. I never sacrificed anything – I chose my occupations and geography carefully so that they would align with my trajectory of being a single dad. The joy of having a child should not lead to sacrifice – it should lead to sanctuary. My daughter has made me proud in a million different […]

I was awoken by my alarm promptly at 5:00 a.m. this morning, the same time it is set for on all seven days. I have always preferred mornings, in darkness, prior to the sunlight’s blissful rise to capture the essence of my day. These morning hours bring clarity, sanctuary, and allow me to prepare for whatever the day has planned for me. For most of the past few weeks, the plan was working.

I feel truant when I sleep past the alarm and so I have several snooze options available at my disposal – and use one almost every day while the coffee is perking.

It’s the middle of the afternoon and I am feeling a bit defeated by the day. Despite trauma by way of parental alienation, most of my recent mornings were pasted with a candy-colored aura reminiscent of gratitude toward all things. I have begun a job I really enjoy after mostly COVID-related downtime and in between a few nannying positions.

And while the days over the past three weeks or so have been good for my résumé and wallet, my mental health continues to teeter somewhere between thinking I am totally fine and thinking I am a total wreck. This is Trauma 101.

I was recently reading a report from the National Library of Medicine which starts with this introduction: Existing research suggests that trauma survivors who experience psychological distress may deliberately inhibit the behavioral expression of emotion (Hassija et al., 2013; Litz, Orsillo, Kaloupek, & Weathers, 2000; Marx & Sloan, […]

For trauma sufferers as well as survivors, the burden of truth is often a difficult pill to swallow. In a recent dilemma, I have been stretched and squeezed into a mode of discomfort when it comes to decision-making.

My only niece is to be married. RSVPs were due yesterday, and I have yet to respond. Since parental alienation ended in the total estrangement of my only daughter, it has been increasingly difficult to assemble a rhythm of clear decision-making. It is particularly true for otherwise “easy” decisions. My brain is in an utter tangle, yet there exists a consistency of love, disappointment, obligation, and duty. As a trauma survivor, my brain has built a complex structure of defense mechanisms, actually solidifying past behaviors and patterns to which I always get to the same destination. Avoidance.

I love my niece with all of my heart and am so happy for her and her fiance. I want nothing more than to spend time with them on their special day, but I must be mindful of the unavoidable pitfalls of attending.

The burden of truth, in simpler terms, is aligned with my core beliefs, particularly one of honesty. Should I attend the wedding, all of my family will be there. Further, I will undoubtedly be introduced to all of the members of the family my niece is marrying into. This means I will have to give innumerable handshakes, hugs, pleasantries, and god-awful forced smiles. These are the worst kind – and in an essence lying. That’s […]

It is now a year since I have had any contact with my three beautiful young children.

My ex continues to deny me any contact with them. My ex continues to take advantage of a flawed system. A system that enables her to ignore and breach court orders for contact and engagement in interventions, with no legal consequence.

I do not claim to be an expert in parental alienation. My story is no worse than any other of the incalculable number of alienated out there.

The following is certainly not intended to be viewed as some kind of checklist to battle parental alienation.

I have simply reflected on the last year and compiled a list of what I have learnt during the last twelve months.

Normalizing the sense of sadness and low mood one will invariably experience as an alienated parent is okay to do.

Allowing this sadness and low mood to spiral out of control is a slippery slope.

Professionals that claim to be experts should always be challenged.

Reading and learning as much as one can about parental alienation is an integral part of fighting this battle.

Connecting with other targeted parents, be it online or in person is incredibly important. Invaluable for emotional support, sharing of ideas, information and advice.

Complaining to services and institutions with a dignified, articulate and well informed argument is key. You may not feel you are making a difference, but every bit of ‘chipping away at the system’ helps.

It took me far too long to realize that the […]