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Before or after you have read this special Parental Alienation Series we invite you to share your insights/experience.
We are gathering information to create statistical data about shared parenting and stepfamily satisfaction and,
if applicable, parental alienation experiences. Without scientific data, decision makers hear opinions. Our job is to
take your experiences through the surveys and create the statistical data need to create programs and changes
in the family law system. Select the Survey option on the menu to the left. Information is confidential. Through the short illustrations
below, we demonstrate our belief that the greatest adversary to successful shared-parenting is
found on the battlefield of the mind. Short 1: What happens to Jr. when Warfare and Separation speak?
After the kids left with Shawna's husband, Dave, Reality spoke out loud, "I don't feel the love yet. What is wrong with this picture? What is wrong with me? Where are my maternal instincts?"
"They don't love you either," whispered Doubt.
'And, their mother despises you for stepping in, mothering her kids," added Warfare.
Shawna dropped her head into her slippery hands. She had been cleaning up the liquid from the spilled bubble bottle; it had been knocked over while suitcases and backpacks were going down the porch steps with the kids who were having a good time chasing their dad. It was Sunday and she was tired. The boys had been especially wound up this weekend. Dave had added to the household by buying a dog for the family a month ago. Shawna, however, was the official pooper-scooper, feeder and groomer.
"How long do you think you will have to be their maid before you get a thank you from their mother for all you do?" Warfare taunted. He could feel Shawna's exhale and the tears running down her cheeks. He continued, "Dave did not even notice your hard work this weekend. He is taking it all for granted... "
~ ~ ~
Dave was feeling his heart beat against his chest. Time was running against him. Traffic was heavy, the boys were sleeping and he was wondering what, or who, would be waiting for him when he dropped off the boys. Would Carnie have her boyfriend standing at the door again with his legs in a sturdy military stance? Would he demand the child support be paid in cash again? Would his daughter be pushed back inside when she tried to come out to say goodbye like last time?
~ ~ ~
Carnie was pacing the kitchen floor, looking at her watch every few seconds. "I hate it when he is late! I totally hate it. He never thinks about what I have to do once the kids get back. I have to switch their thoughts to the school week and get them to finish homework."
Alan, Carnie's boyfriend, joined her in the kitchen, "You would think he could leave on time for a change. But, he only thinks of himself. You know that by now. He needs his butt kicked. If he calls, I will get the phone."
~ ~ ~
David Jr. kept his eyes shut. He had made the drive for several years between his parents' houses. By the turns and sounds of the road, he had a strong sense of where he was in the trek home without looking. A tear crept out of his right eye and slid quietly down his cheek. He was nervous about Alan and dad meeting again. . .
~ ~ ~
Walking through the den, Shawna discovers David Jr.'s notebook. Warfare stepped right in, saying, "That's right, Shawna, look at that trouble on the coffee table. Carnie will be calling you any second.
“What will Jr. do in class tomorrow? Get in trouble
again? Get another "F" for failure to turn in another assignment?" chided Failure.
Shawna threw up her hands, I don't know how to make everyone responsible!
I can't be everyone's brain. This is not my fault. Although, if I had looked around a little more, I probably would have seen
it. Dave and the boys were having fun and I knew they were all distracted. . .
"When
was the last time Dave brought flowers home? He doesn't think of you like he used to. Think of how it used to be
and what it's like now. All this stress - you need to get away," Separation uttered.
***
.
.
Sara-Marie Madison Hennesy heard the 3:00 bell. Her classmates were talking about their green-eyed, after-school supervisor. Boys were playing superheroes. Girls with ponytails and braids were clapping and singing, “Say-say oh playmate…”
Her heart began to bounce with joy against her chest. The blond hair on her goose-bump covered arms was kept flat, covered by the pink and white Barbie shirt her dad gave her for her 8thbirthday; every cell in her body wanted to dash out of the classroom door, but the children had not been dismissed by Mrs. Westel. She knew her kind, dimple-smiled dad would be in the student loading zone because it was Wednesday!
It had been their Wednesday routine for two years. Sara-Marie and her dad went to Mc Donald’s. She ordered a McNugget meal with an orange drink. Her dad ordered a Big Mac, extra large french fries (which they enjoyed sharing - and pulling fries out at the same time to see who would get the best one!) and a vanilla shake; she always got the first taste by pulling the straw with song from its cup to lick the sides and an inhale to suck out its content. She would always replace the straw with its paper hat tip with a smile and, “I love you, daddy.”
Today was different. Karen, Sara-Marie’s mother, and her boyfriend were standing in the hallway, right outside her classroom door. As Sara-Marie turned right to go greet her dad, Karen chirped, “Oh, no – not today Sara-Marie. You are coming with Bill and mommy. We are going to register you for Girl Scouts!”
“But I can do that tomorrow,” whined Sara-Marie.
“No, we are doing it today. Besides, Bill took the afternoon off work so we could go to Mc Donald’s afterward. How does that sound?”
“But this is daddy’s day. I want to go see daddy.”
“Sara-Marie Madison, I told you what we are going to do. Isn’t it nice that Bill wants to go with us today?”
“But daddy is here, I know it. Let me go find him,” whimpered Sara as her shoulders rounded down and her countenance fell low.
“I already talked to him, Sara-Marie. He will see you next week.”
“You told me that last week and the week before I think. Doesn’t daddy remember? Why can’t I just go with daddy and do Girl Scouts tomorrow?” pleaded Sara as she was taken by the hand - exit stage left.
~ ~ ~
Keith finished up his cigarette, threw the butt of it down and stepped on it. He stuffed the last bite of his Big Mac in his mouth, opened the truck’s door and reached in to place his Mc Donald’s soda cup in the holder and headed home. 30 minutes into the drive home, he pulled over and dialed Karen’s number hoping not to get the message to leave a message again. However, that was his fate. While he was saying he would like to talk to Sara-Marie, his phone signaled a call was waiting.
Quickly, he switched the line hoping it was Sara-Marie but it was his dad, “Hi son. How was your daddy-daughter date this week?”
“Not great, dad. On my way here Karen called and said she had an appointment Sara-Marie could not miss. She is long overdue for the dentist,” Keith said sorrowfully. “I offered to meet her at the office after I fixed Robin’s flat tire, but she said that would not be necessary for this one.”
~ ~ ~
As Sara-Marie picked up her extra nuggets to take home, she uttered, “I miss daddy.”
Short 3, part 2 of Sara-Marie Madison Hennesy:
7:30 a.m.
Keith had been sitting at his desk since 6:15
a.m. – after all his tossing and turning with his mind unsettled, he went to the office early. Fuelled by only a couple
of hours of sleep, he began to feel tired and as though his emotions were hanging on his shirt sleeves. He looked up
at the clock and his heart told him his daughter would be finishing breakfast with her Lilo & Stitch backpack leaning
against her chair. When they were all under one roof, they were working on creating a new habit together. After she had left
her schoolwork at home the third time, he taught her to treat her backpack as if it was a puppy following her around that
needed her attention; they had even starting calling the backpack Stitch! He smiled.
.
Taking
in a cleansing breath, Keith picked up the phone and dialed Karen. It was early, so he would not have to worry about Bill
answering the phone. It rang repeatedly. Come on and pick up the phone
this time. He gave a cheeseburger smile to passers-by as his co-workers began arriving. Finally, he heard a faint,
“Hello? Daddy?”
.
“Hi sweetie, how are you doing this morning?” Before
he could say anything more the voice changed, “Keith, we are leaving for school. Have a good day,” his soon-to-be
former wife, scowled as she folded her phone closed.
.
Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he
got up quickly and left the building. He was happy to have heard Sara-Marie’s voice. He called his father to share the
good news, “Dad, I just talked to Sara-Marie. Well, sort of. I heard her say hello before Karen hung up on me.”
.
“Well,
that must make you feel a little better, son. What do you think you will do now?” his father asked.
.
~ ~ ~
.
In the car, Karen talked to her young daughter. “Listen, Baby, hasn’t Mommy told
you not to talk to strangers?”
.
“Yeah, but daddy is not a stranger,” Sara-Marie
responded.
.
“No, but you don’t get to see him very much anymore, do you?” Alienation insisted she continue, “He
could not get here in time for your Wednesday date, could he?”
.
Sara-Marie dropped her head and uttered, “But he was going to talk to me
on the phone, Mommy.”
.
“Why did he wait until it was time to leave for school? Don’t
worry about it. Mommy and Bill love you…”
.
~ ~ ~
.
After pressing out his last cigarette in the oversized, outdoor ashtray, Keith returned to his desk to find a handwritten
note, “Please see me when you get in.” It was from his supervisor so he went quickly to her office.
.
“Come in, Keith,” his 40-something supervisor blurted with one hand covering the phone receiver.
She whispered, “Shut the door, too, please. Thank you.”
.
He was thinking about calling
his attorney when her conversation ended. She looked at him with kindness and yet stumbled when she asked, “Keith,
is there something I can do? Your attention to detail has fallen. Mrs. Hernandez came in very upset yesterday. You deposited
her check into their joint account two weeks ago and she has been bouncing checks for three days.”
.
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. She wants to blame me for not being able to balance her checkbook? I don’t get that
– sorry.”
.
“No. What happened was this. You inverted the deposits –
the small check went into her private checking account and the large check went into the joint account. Apparently, Mr. Hernandez
took out the money and won’t replace it. They are going through a divorce and said this is our teller’s fault
and the bank is taking a hit.”
.
“Are you kidding me? Really? He is being an idiot
and I am getting a write-up for it?”
.
“It’s more than that, Keith. You know
it. We understand your situation is a trying one. We have been covering your small errors for a couple months. We know you
are going through a serious situation. Now it has impacted your work performance and the bank has to take a pretty serious
loss. I am afraid I have to let you go, Keith. I am terribly sorry. There is nothing I can do. I tried to keep you on board.”
.
His heart was beating like a gorilla, shoving his blood through his veins like never before. “Oh,
crap. What am I going to do? I have a daughter to support whose mother will not take this very well.”
.
She stood up and as she walked to the door, “I will have your check waiting when you finish cleaning out your desk.
Again, I am so sorry.”
.
~ ~ ~ 8:50 a.m.
.
Sitting in his truck, Keith felt
sick, but knew he had to tell Karen what just happened. He would not be able to pay the full support amount for the month;
with unemployment so high finding another job was not likely anytime soon. He watched a young couple embracing and kissing
in his rear-view mirror. What happened? Where did I go wrong? Now my daughter
has parents in two places.
.
Fear chided him, “Now you will never get
to see your daughter. That’s it. Karen is going to leave with Bill.” Keith shook his head and slammed both palms
against his steering wheel…
***
Short 4: Single Mom, Special emphasis: Boundary Crossing
Friday night, 7:30 p.m. on the porch of their dad’s 1950’s home:
.
Eight-year old, red-haired Jack and his older brother, Cody, fiddled with their shoelaces just to stay outside and adjust to where they found themselves. They looked up the street every few seconds. They had only been at their dad’s house for half-an-hour. Jack had arrived with tears in his eyes. Finally, their father opened the screen door with one hand. Raising a glass of tea for a cheer with a smile on his face he said, “Boys, you are not going to grow if you skip meals like this. Why not come in and try what Gina made for dinner? She has your favorite, macaroni and cheese on the table.”
.
Cody gave another glance up the street, looked back at his brother and told him, “She isn’t coming, Jack, remember?” With tight lips and big eyes he repeated with emphasis, “Remember?” and approached his brother’s ear and whispered, “If we did not come over here, dad and Gina's going to take us away from mom and grandma. Remember, what she told us. They said mom is a bad mom and they are trying to take us away from her. We better go inside.”
.
Still holding the door open as his boys debated entering the house, Randy nodded his head toward the dining room and smiled. The man in the doorway was the dad the boys wanted to hug, but if they did, how would their mom feel? So, they got up together and walked passed their dad.
.
Next to the table was their baby sister in her Care Bear high chair, blowing self-produced bubbles as she squealed admiring her own sounds. The boys laughed, Cody gave her hug and they chose their seats. Randy dished out the meal and asked them what they wanted to drink. “Chocolate milk, please,” Cody responded, but Jack said nothing.
.
Jack looked up and said, “This doesn’t look like mom’s macaroni and cheese. I don’t want it.”
.
Randy put down two glasses of the Hershey’s chocolate milk he just stirred and with his arm around the chair-back where Jack sat, he said, “Son, you are right. Gina makes homemade macaroni and cheese and mom makes it from a box. Both are pretty good – they’re just different. It is kind of like the licorice you get at the little league field, Jack. There are Twizzler Sticks that come connected and there are the individual ones you get in grape and cherry. They taste a little different, but both are good, each in their own way. I assure you, it is tasty.”
.
Hungry from all the day’s activities, once Jack forced himself to take a couple bites of Gina’s macaroni and cheese, he asked for a second and a third serving. He relaxed and mealtime went by fast. The boys played with their baby sister while their dad and Gina cleaned up…
.
~ ~ ~ Sunday, 4:00 p.m.
.
The car stereo playing loudly made the windows of house bounce when their mother and her boyfriend pulled up and honked the horn. Jack and Cody gave Randy a hug and warmly waved to Gina as they each picked up an end of their shared suitcase.
.
Their mom’s boyfriend, Derrick, was leaning against the car, facing the house, when she popped the trunk. “Hi boys, how are you doing?” Derrick looked at Randy instead of the boys.
.
“Get in the car, we are taking you home. Aren’t you glad? Your momma sure missed you.” The boys hugged their mom tightly and made their way into the back seat of the car. They glanced back as it drove away swiftly and they waved a small good-bye through the side window with their fingertips.
.
Kendra inhaled and out with her smoke she said, “Boys, tell me how your weekend went. Did Gina or your dad say anything about me?”
.
Jack asked, “Well, like what?”
.
“Like, did they ask what I have been doing, or if I was dating somebody new? That kind of stuff,” she responded.
.
“Well, not really. Mom, we did not want to go in at first.”
.
“I don’t blame you,” responded Kendra; Alienation was feeding her thoughts unnoticed.
.
“But once we were there a little while, mom, it wasn’t so bad.”
.
Cody elbowed Jack, “Jaaaa-ack! Mom doesn’t want to know that.”
.
“Well,” Jack rephrased, “I mean it was okay. We got to play with Kennedy, mom; she is soooo cute.”
.
Jealousy prodded her mind. “She is not your sister, you know. You don’t have the same mommy. Babies are cute and funny sometimes,” replied Kendra.
.
~ ~ ~
.
“So, how do you think we did?” Randy asked as he wrapped his arm around his wife to lead her inside. In her baby bliss, Kennedy was unaware of the tension her brothers, mother and father had just maneuvered.
.
“Hmmm, not sure, babe. They were so quiet when they arrived, but they were having fun with Kennedy again, like yesterday, before they left; I hope that was enough. Our backyard picnic was fun yesterday, although it was a bit chilly. So, what is with honking? Is this some kind of kid drive-thru?”
.
His mind elsewhere, Randy did not address the drive-thru remark, “I wish Sheryl would have been here. She does not seem to care anymore.”
.
Gina gently placed her toddler-free hand between Randy’s shoulder blades and began to press with her thumb, firmly and methodically up toward his neck. With a soft voice, she reminded him, “Randy, Sheryl is 14 now. What did you want to do when you were 14? Did you want to hang out with your parents or your friends? You did the right thing by giving her the freedom to choose and to take the pressure off her for your own heart’s sake.”
.
“I miss her, Gina. I am afraid she will stop making the effort to come over. I have the stories from other dads. I don’t want to end up with no real connections. Blood doesn’t make the relationship, time together does. I will always have the door open.”
.
“She knows that, Randy. You know as well as I do, I am the one she loathes. Our parenting styles are different – Kendra’s and mine, and she has used every opportunity to keep the kids loyal to her instead of allowing them the freedom to give and receive more love into their lives. Her thought-life lead her to view me as a competitor from day one after we got married…”
.
~ ~ ~ Sunday, 6:30 p.m.
.
Derrick was in the living room with a few beer-bottle companions watching wrestling as Kendra called everyone in for dinner. “Just bring my plate in here, and bring a beer with it.”
.
The boys and Sheryl joined their mom in the kitchen and began to fill their plates. Cody took the beer his mom handed him and headed for the living room. From behind, he told Derrick his Coors had arrived and took a swig of the bubbly beverage and burped under his breath.
.
“Son,” said Derrick, “if your mom knew I let you do this she would kick my butt. You better not tell her. Where is your sister?”
.
“She’s at the table already. Aren’t you gonna eat with us?”
.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” replied Derrick.
.
~ ~ ~
.
At the table, Jack stared at the macaroni and cheese, “This doesn’t look like Gina’s macaroni and cheese.”
.
In her thoughts, security jumped wildly with Alienation and Jealousy, accelerating Kendra's heart rate. She threw up her hands and asked, “Of course not, Jack. What’s wrong with it?”
.
In the moment, Jack rapidly inhaled but before he could cough up an answer, Kendra continued, “What is wrong with how I cook?”
.
“Uh, mom. Calm down (pause).”
.
Derrick walked in, “What’s going on in here? Who upset your mother? And, don’t talk to your mother like that, Jack. You shut your mouth, boy.”
.
“But I was answering mom,” Jack said looking at his plate, with eyes fully loaded with tears. He continued, “Mom, nothing is wrong with how you cook. It’s just that Gina makes homemade macaroni and cheese; that’s all.” His tears began to jump off his chin and hide in the fabric of his shirt.
.
“Well, Jackie, mom works and homemade macaroni and cheese is a no-can-do around here. I can't stay home like Gina who gets to stay home with the baby she had with your dad. I bet that baby does not go without or have to wait like we do."
.
Alienation was still pounding her thoughts, "He makes sure that baby has everything, but I can’t buy you shoes when you need them, I barely have enough food in the house and I practically support you all by myself. I'm sorry it is so hard,” she cried.
.
~ ~ ~
Sunday, 10:30 p.m.
.
Derrick and Kendra were getting ready for
bed. Derrick rolled close to Kendra. While running his fingers through her hair, he inquired, “When do you get the lift
tickets for Snow Valley, baby?”
.
“I haven’t got the child
support check yet. I’ll go when Randy pays me what he owes me…”
.
Warning: sensitive subject matter follows. By reading this conclusion you
are stating you are over 18 or older:
.
“And,
baby, when are you going to show Sheryl how to wear make-up and let her dress older? With that hot little
body of hers, you are in trouble woman.”
.
Her heart jumped upon hearing her
daughter has a hot little body, but Kendra shrugged off an inner alarm set when she was young girl as Derrick pulled her close
for a kiss.
.
***
.
Short 5: One adult daughter's alienation experience.
.
***
.
Part 6: Parental Alienation Awareness Poem - The Child Watching
The Child Watching© 1990, Patricia Hope Powe, all rights reserved. No part may be reproduced,
copied or transmitted without permission of the author.
.
Instead
of feeling hideously sick at the thought of talking to your ex-spouse, instead of wishing his breaks to fail – think
of the child watching.
.
Instead of total anger and loathsome resentment,
deep hatred and deadly bitterness – think of the child watching. See his blue, brown or green eyes, her long straight
or curly hair; look at them and think of the good times you once shared.
.
Yes, you were together and out of your union a child, pure, sweet and innocent was born. Your son’s
identity is found in the two of you. While you continue to hate and feud, yelling ugly and vile things, your daughter
sits on her bed, ears plugged, rocking back and forth, ALONE in her room.
.
After
the fighting on the porch, the car gone mad and doors have slammed, after the arguing to each get your way, everyone is found
tense at the end of the day. After you have gone to bed and you are soundly sleeping, your son lays in the dark, wiping away
tears – quietly weeping.
.
As the clock ticks hours away,
your daughter wonders why she was ever born. She longs to give and receive abundant love but she knows there are conditions
and her loyalties are unfairly torn.
.
Every child deserves
it – to unconditionally show and be given mother’s and father’s love and to know limitless laughter. Yet,
this son and daughter, knowing none, are contemplating the life hereafter.
.
Please, please think of your children’s hearts, their minds and smiles and love them more than
you loathe your ex-mate. One day they will be grown up and gone; you want them filled with confidence and love not uncertainties
and hate.
.
When you feel the urge to rant and rave,
and in those moments you wished your ex was in a grave, and when you are pumping that child for information – stop!
You are only hurting your child with your interrogation.
.
When
you look into your child’s face and find you are filled with anger and bordering on rage – think of the child
watching … wanting to run away and escape.
.
You
see, in this existence we call life, we often get just what we expect. Begin now – choose now – to capture your thoughts and you direct their path. Make a new road for your child and yourself; create
a life path that leads to wholeness and happiness, and one of endless spiritual wealth.
.
Get off the selfish highways of “not his, but MY way” and seek to make your child’s
world a better place. Step out of your circumstances and into his for a while, lest you, otherwise, find yourself mourning
the loss of your child.
.
Bitterness will churn your insides while drawing you
in to dwell on the unfairness of your pain; I'm warning you, he won't let go until he gets you to act in haste.
The feelings he calls forth will eventually join his cohorts Anger and Fear. They will side against you and throw you into
the flaming arms of Hatred, and use your son to cloud love that once was clear.
.
They will chide and
poke you when you do not get your way. They will penetrate your thoughts to become a raging cascade. You just want the
other parent gone, "That's it!" you said. "I'm done!"
It's not really you or your ex-spouse that Bitterness, Anger, Fear
and Hatred are after, its your daughter and son...
.
For more moving stories, please check out the previews of A Richter Blend, Stepfamily Chronicles on the menu to the left. We are writing for change. The Chronicles are true-to-life stories written to facilitate communication and to enhance understanding and cooperation between all parents and stepparents - and extended family members, to be a tool for mental health professionals, Children and Family service providers, and to reduce the risks of abuse and academic neglect. Feel free to write us: StraightTalk@StepfamilySystems.com.
