Parental Alienation During the Holidays

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Pioneer Cemetery University of Oregon

The Pioneer Cemetery is located on the east side of the Knight library in the middle of the University of Oregon campus. Today it sits outside the window I found while looking for a place to sip my coffee, read, and do some writing. With its rows of century-old gravestones claiming space next to tall Douglas firs, it’s snow-covered road trailing off and away to an infinite landscape, it makes a pleasant backdrop upon which to gaze as I read, write, and think about the move I recently made and the children I left behind.

And all of it makes a particularly apt metaphor for someone who's particularly apt at finding meaning during this time of year especially when the world seems distant, cold, and lonely as it often does to parents of Parental Alienation (PA) who are apart from their children during the holidays.

We PA parents struggle especially hard this time of the year to try and make up for our loss by pretending it’s not a loss, by pretending it’s a strengthening exercise, or by reaching out to others on the internet and elsewhere who have also lost children to the misguided bitterness of a ex-spouse bent on destroying the relationship between a child and a parent.

But sometimes the depths of the holiday void can be too much, sometimes we expect a whole lot more, and sometimes our rationalizations deliver less than we expect. And it's at times like these when comments like "Hang in there," "Don't give up," or "I’ll pray for you" – all from kind souls who mean well – are seen as meaningless pabulum, slaps to the face, and failures to acknowledge our all-too-important pain and brush it aside as little more than meaningless family-related trivia – something we may tolerate at any other time of the year but can't now when our emotions are extra raw, as they are during the holidays.

A kind woman from the UK recently sent out a tweet to her parental alienation followers something to the effect of, "Never Give Up," to which I replied "Give up what? What are we supposed to keep doing?" 

I asked this because nothing I’m doing now is making any difference and I’m sick and tired of going on another three years of never seeing my daughters: children I dearly love, children who used to love me, but children who never want me in their lives again.

I wasn't intending to be rude. Lord knows I wouldn't to someone who has suffered as I have. But I wanted answers, for God’s sake. I want something concrete, not flimsy and fluffy. Give me something solid and stable I can use to get my daughters back or don’t give me anything at all, was what my inner self was saying even though my outer self couldn't say it quite like that.

Her reply to me was to "Not Give up Hope." That's what we're supposed to keep doing – hoping. Which is fine. But only fine, and not the kind of answer I was looking for. Not an answer for someone who only wants to see their children, especially during the holidays.

But she meant well. Bless her soul. And she cared, and I thank God for that. And I realize my emotions are extra raw during this time of the year. But I also know that I can no longer listen to well-intentioned sayings while my girls and I drift further and further apart, especially during the holidays.

And so I took another sip of my coffee, turned another page in my notebook, and looking back out the window at the snow-covered ground and the tombstones sunk into the ground below, I began to think that maybe the deaths I'm aware of and see and feel are commingled with a vista of treetops reaching for the sky and the clear blue heavens completing a circle that tells me that maybe there is a new beginning after all.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all parental alienation parents. Hang in there. I'm praying for you.