Dear Reader,
Being a family torn at its roots and growing in opposing directions requires thoughtful and strategic thinking. Instinctively to shield us from grief, we are tempted to hide in the world of make-believe. Yet that will not defuse the trauma. Beyond the surface lies an unbearable pain where the truth has become ever so mangled that the logical mind can no longer decipher clarity from confusion. The longer the lies linger the greater the tales become and the harsher the pain. It is the pain that can bring untold tragedy and must be stopped.

As I try to place a single terminology to the painful experience of my family the closest I can get is ‘engineered captivity’. To the world we appeared free. Yet our psyches were captured and thus much damage had been done to our relationships culminating in parental alienation.

Please Log in or Register to see full story. Ideally, I would have loved to have the trust of my loved ones so we can speak and iron out our differences. As a second choice, I would have hoped that a professional would accept the role of working alongside us. Having tried the above options extensively and realizing I am on my own, I have chosen to share my story.

I know there is no guarantee that once I share my story the truth will be accepted with finality. There will most likely be fierce denial so that those in control can retain their esteemed positions.

I have much respect for the brilliance of the professionals that took the effort to analyze our family dynamics so we can have a clear perception of what actually took place. As you will see, you too, the characters in this story, were merely pawns in a game far beyond your imagination.

It is my sincere hope that sharing my personal story will bring awareness to the trauma of alienated children and parents.

Thank you for reading it.

With love,

Abigail

……

Turning the Tables

My Background

A few years ago I faced one of life’s most horrific experiences. My own grown children rejected me. I was lost and alone in a sea of grief as the love of my life and sense of purpose faded away. Whichever way I turned all I saw was more trauma and more blockades. My longing for my children engulfed my entire personhood and left me emotionally drained. Simply lifting a spoon or going to the dry cleaners would prove to be overwhelming tasks.

Broken and sunken would I be able to stave off the damage that was done? Appearing ghostlike and starry-eyed who would believe me? Was I destined to live with the label of the mother that failed her children?

Time has a way of giving us clarity. I could now clearly comprehend the dynamics that were but a crushing life-altering mystery back then.

Here is my story.

I was fortunate to have a truly blessed childhood. I grew up on a breathtaking tree lined street in San Diego with many other secular Jewish families. My father, a technically gifted person established a business as an auto mechanic. For as long as I can remember my mother stood at his side and spent most of her days in the business. It gave our home a feeling of wholesomeness knowing that they were unified in their efforts to provide for us. It may not have been the cleanest work but business was solid and we were happy.

For the most part my education was via the public school system with an occasional Hebrew class here and there. This usually happened when someone in our synagogue decided that the kids should learn about their heritage. We weren’t religious but we were proud Jews.

With higher education closer on my horizon I chose to study business administration. Wanting to make sure I was in a proper environment, with similar mentalities to our own, my parents encouraged me to attend Harvard. They had always been known for their Jewish youth groups and of course offered a superior education.

……

Meeting Michael

The children of many other local families attended Harvard as well. Although growing up I had little to do with the more religious families that attended the Orthodox Synagogue in college we often mingled. Thus I came to know Michael Winter, a hard working medical student two years my senior.

We often had lunch together, would take walks, and he would be very kind to me. He took a strong interest in my business studies and encouraged me to take every class possible to give me a solid footing in the business world.

His mother would call him every day. She would always ask about me and send her regards. This seemed perfectly natural.

At some point Michael shared that his close connection to his mother was the result of his having been ill as a child. He was born with a heart condition that kept him in and out of the hospital for many years. Yet, being bright he did graduate with honors and to the great joy of his family was accepted in Harvard. He came across as respectable and pleasant and I enjoyed his soft-spoken unhurried companionship.

The years passed quickly and Michael stayed connected often buying me gifts and taking me out to fancy restaurants. My parents were very impressed with his refined character. This  added to my sense of feeling fortunate.

Sometimes though in the midst of taking a walk or studying I would notice a tiny bit of a far-away look. I never thought much of it, thinking he most likely had something on his mind.

I looked forward to meeting his family. Especially to meeting his mother that I practically felt I knew from all the daily regards. That summer evening when Michael invited me to his home for dinner was an exciting day. I was impressed to find his mother to be an elegant and aristocratic woman. She too seemed to elicit warmth. It was easy to talk to her and I liked how she took an interest in my studies. Michael too shared that his mother was known to choose her friends carefully and that you had to be a known personality for her to accept you. I felt honored that she was extending her friendship to me.

As we chatted I learned that she managed the local Macy’s department store and was known to run a tight ship. Her shop ran like clockwork and no one ever challenged her demands. This further made me feel privileged of her gentleness towards me.

Towards the end of the evening I found myself alone in the kitchen with her. I thought to take the opportunity to broach the subject of Michael’s far away look as it was puzzling me. All I got was a huge smile with ‘darling, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about’. Young and naïve I felt reassured.

The more time I would spend with her the more I grew to admire her. She kept a sparkling home and was always well groomed. She came across as an intelligent woman and I found I could speak to her about any subject. She always had praise for me. Sometimes for my brilliance and other times for my beautiful outfit and tastes. She would often have a gift prepared as well. She would hand it to me saying she happened to notice this and thought I might like it. The gifts were well chosen and I was growing to love her.

Unbeknownst to me I was in the early stages of being groomed to trust her.

She did seem like a loving mother too to both Michael and his three sisters. His sisters seemed pleasant as well and once again in my innocence I felt privileged to be connected to the family.

There was some class distinction though between our families. Although my parents were more financially secure they weren’t wealthy. In that respect we were both middle class families. In the social arena though Michael’s family stood way above ours. Michael’s father was on every community board. His mother was very active as well and often spoke at social events. She had a talent for inspiring crowds and to touch their souls. She was charismatic and respected.

Michael was their dream child on whom they had put all their hopes for status and pride. Their home was full of his certificates and his many graduation photos from kindergarten through medical school. When I would walk in with Michael his mother’s eyes glowed. Here was her diamond.

Her husband Leon was proud as well. He however was far more subdued and showed his pride more subtly. He appeared to be a naturally loving father and he was always kind and friendly to me as well.

As his mother was extremely loving towards me and was loved by everyone else in the family I did not realize that by stepping into a relationship with Michael I was essentially tampering her hard-core bond with her beloved son.

…..

Back from College

My mother had been a seamstress back in her early twenties in Israel. She often sewed her own clothes as well as mine. Over time I too would learn the ins and outs of producing beautiful work with a needle and thread.

Thus when the time came to start out on my own I thought to sell linens for bedding. I loved working with art and decorating rooms. Here I could use my talents and have a career as well. It was my dream.

I would need to purchase machines, fabrics, and personally train my workers to save on the cost of hiring professionals. It wasn’t a huge undertaking and my parents readily agreed to put down the initial funds.

I was very busy those first few years getting the business off the ground. I continued to see Michael here and there often with long absences. Once I was more established I started to give him more time. He too was working as a medical assistant. His job through was nine to five. He was thus more available. This suited him as due to the illness of his childhood he tried to maintain a low pressure lifestyle.

We resumed where we had left off, once again sharing our lunch and going for walks, this time though in our local neighborhood.

As we were sitting in a park one day Michael turned towards me with a serious expression on his face. I realized there was something on his mind. He wasn’t smiling though and I was feeling unnerved. He still spoke as a friend so I perked up and relaxed to hear that his issue was one of religion. Michael’s background was orthodox and they celebrated the Sabbath and followed all restrictions of a religious Jewish family. Michael wanted to know if I was willing to go along with this.

Actually, I had always loved the wholesomeness and warmth of a truly religious lifestyle. I was not only happy but also eager to move forward and to bring more religion into my life. With that Michael smiled and I got my long awaited proposal.

The engagement and the wedding were celebrated with much fanfare and I thrived on being a young bride and newlywed. I continued to love my new mother-in-law and we would visit her regularly for our Tuesday dinners as well as for the Sabbath. During these visits I would sit with her for long hours and schmooze and always enjoyed it.

I continued to run my business, to build new accounts, and to find ways to cut costs. I had almost twenty people working for me now and I was quite busy. Some of the accounts were large department stores and it was always a struggle to meet their demands. It was though very profitable.

In addition my parents had always been very generous and along with their help we acclimated to a high standard of living. We had many friends among the elite and often went out to upscale events.

…..

Mother-in-law

Three years after our marriage we were blessed with our first child, a delightful little girl we named Racheli. I was happy to rearrange my lifestyle to make time for her. Thankfully our bank accounts were solid enough and I could arrange to work part time. We weren’t wealthy but we were managing. Thus I was able to savor my precious new bundle of joy.

Racheli was a first grandchild for both my parents and my in-laws. She was the family pet and dearly loved. As love tends to do when it starts flowing it encircled us all in an aura of bliss. It was a wonderful time.

At one point my mother-in-law decided she  wanted to spend more time with Racheli and offered to adjust her working hours to look after her while I was at work. I was impressed by her offer. During the hours she was in my home she would often fold laundry and put up dinner for us as well. At some point she additionally offered to drive my kids to their afternoon activities. All I could think of was my good fortune. I always thanked her for her generosity, bought her gifts and and wrote her beautiful letters which she treasured.

By offering us more help than we could afford she put me in a position of becoming dependent on her. Yet with her constant admiration of my intelligence and capabilities I did not grasp that she was setting me up as an emotional hostage to her services for survival. Unbeknownst to me by charmingly weaving her way into my life she put herself in a position to one day control my reputation.

She would often stay after I came home from work and we would have coffee together. She would share her own personal life and often added family woes that were on her mind. She seemed to bask in the friendship as well as I did. She also enjoyed telling me of her many successes and loved when I complimented her. She was extremely proud of her close friendship with the Rabbi’s wife in our community, a truly refined woman. She spoke as well of the many high-ranking rabbinical figures that contacted her for her guidance and sought her assistance.

She kindly added that should I ever need her I should know that I have her promise that she would be there for me as well. She would often hug me warmly and I would feel accepted and loved.

She continued to praise me as she had in the past often adding how impressed she was the way I managed my busy life today. As she raved about my accomplishments with her charming disposition I would feel a state of aura envelope me. This display of her confidence further cemented my friendship with her.

For the next ten years my mother-in-law spent quite a bit of time in my home. Over time some of her intense love would fade in and out and I would occasionally become the byproduct of her criticism. Early on it was far apart and I let it pass thinking she’s entitled to be moody.

Additionally she would sometimes walk in and out without greeting me. This too I attributed to her having something on her mind. To my knowledge there wasn’t anything powerful that had taken place to have me feeling guilty so I waited for it to pass. Interestingly, in those early years it would.

As the years passed though a new level of coldness would emerge and this began to gnaw at me. I could not understand it. What had I done? Was something going on?

Later on I learned that something was happening but I did not know it.

…….

The Parenting Years

As I begin with the humdrum of everyday life it is far from my intentions to bore the reader. It is simply to portray the routine background that lulled me into thinking that life was normal and predictable. That I would teach and they would learn, that I would guide and they would grow, and that I would love and they would become loving.

I loved spending time with my adorable baby daughter Racheli. Those were truly my happiest hours of the day. Her first year of milestones passed almost in perfection with Racheli owning up to her expectations with flying colors. Her second year, as she became verbal and independent, was even more fun. Each move and each expression would be followed by her face-aglow, heartwarming laughter. Here was a new level of joy that had entered our lives. It was a tangible joy that infused our home with love, warmth and delight.

By the time Racheli was two and we were fast friends, Noam came along. I had prepared myself for waves of jealously but nothing of the sort ever happened. Racheli loved Noam and kept looking out for him. Watching them bond and share the love that flowed in our home further infused my love for them.

Like Racheli, Noam thrived. I could not imagine a greater joy than being a parent. Suddenly monetary rewards felt meaningless. What could ever replace the joy of watching one’s own child move along and create sunshine! I was totally hooked. Motherhood was wonderful!

Before long, Noam too, was ready to sit on the floor with us. I would often build quick little towers with Racheli and encourage Noam to topple them. It was a game we could all play and we relished the pleasure it brought us. Soon we were all giggling and enjoying the game. Each day brought new treasures. I learned of the empowering impact of love. The more I gave the more we all had to share.

As the children grew so did their intellect and their skills. They loved learning, building and creating. I loved teaching and watching them blossom. While Racheli preferred storybooks and crayons, Noam loved building blocks. Racheli’s brilliance exceeded my expectations and my pride knew no bounds. I would spend hours reading to her and explaining things and she loved sitting at my side attentively leaning in to grasp each word.

I knew she knew how to count when she was a bit over two years old but was stunned to realize after taking a long outdoor walk with her that she was actually calculating distances. After having me tell her that it’s only two more blocks to our house she later commented, ‘no, mommy’, it was three more blocks”. This brilliance was truly Racheli’s hallmark. It followed her through her years and I looked on with an all-knowing contentment.

With minds like that the children’s school years were a breeze and homework time was never a chore. Racheli, along with the children that followed, would sit around the table with each child busy with their own project. Some played with play-doh while others colored. It was family time and it was wonderful. I would walk around giving pats on the back, giving a light compliment or a tidbit of encouragement and we would pass the evenings in blended bliss.

Noam continued to love anything that he could build. He would use his Lego blocks and cars and literally build entire cities complete with railway cars, bridges, schools, and hospitals. It began to become a bit tricky to find room for his extended villages. Nevertheless his creations were masterpieces. He took this talent along with him as he moved on in life and success followed. He too grew to be an intuitive child with a knack for both friendship and personal growth. I enjoyed the hours we would talk and felt privileged to be a part of the young man he was becoming.

My children knew my poise and delightful personality reflected the proud mother that I was. We were a team building a wonderful family. It was something that was ours and it was beyond precious.

When Dalia came along I was an experienced mom and knew to treasure her infancy, as it would ever so soon be behind me. She was truly a beautiful child and we all adored her. Her instant charm captivated Racheli and Noam and they loved indulging her.

Dalia was followed, only a year later by Daniel, a bright and intuitive child. The two were fast friends. As little as they were, each one would wait for the other and insist that whatever one had, the other should have too. It was heartwarming to observe them as they returned from their respective playgroups and hugged each other like they had not seem one another for weeks. I would often marvel how their social skills were perfectly attuned towards each other without any official training. It was a true joy to observe them at play.

With a larger family now it was getting harder to take the children out for their walks. To continue to keep us mobile I invested in a double stroller. With the two older ones holding on to the sides I would venture out to the public library, one of our favorite places. Crunched down side-by-side we would scour the shelves for fantasy and adventure. With our books piled high at the back of my stroller the children would happily skip all the way home.

Dalia and Daniel quickly grew to join in activities with the rest of us. With four everything was more fun. We would play hide and seek, bake cookies, and get all chocolaty from the batter. I kept craft supplies on hand, as well as puzzles, paper and tools for writing and drawing for rainy days. When that got tiring, we often played the ring around a rosy or ‘I mailed a letter to my mother and on……’ . I loved being a part of their discovery years and would watch their play with awe.

Both my husband Michael and I felt truly gifted.

To our great fortune there was still a bonus coming our way. As Daniel was turning eleven we were blessed with a  precious heartwarming bundle – twin girls, Penina and Elana. Their charm and beauty added to the already joyous flowing atmosphere in our home. Michael and myself would spend our evenings basking in their love and our other children would join us.

One of Michael’s greatest knacks was his ability to keep everything tuned in together while each of us sat absorbed in our own tasks. Thus we would congregate in the family room independently absorbed yet bonding together.

During this time my admiration for Michael heightened. In addition to being a wonderful father he too was an expert at getting the kids to stay in line with their behaviors and their schooling. They was no place I would rather be than in my own home.

Like their siblings before them they could bask in play for hours. They were doubly blessed with an overpowering energy for love, which I truly felt was their giveback to all the love that was extended toward them. Their magnetism for life would dazzle us and inject us with extra doses of energy. Their older siblings loved caring for them and keeping them at their side. I worried that my younger two, Dalia and Daniel, would overpower them and leave out of the family club, but Penina and Elana soon learned to fight their own battles and to charm their way into their games, leaving us all amused.

As time moved on and my children’s academic studies required more reading and experimentation my schedule adapted. They often did need help with their projects and I would sit for hours preparing them for tests or contests. When I knew a child was worried about an upcoming exam or a presentation I rehearsed endlessly with them until I would see the calm return. The best bonus would be their cheer after the event when they shared how well they made out. We would both share that moment of success. Knowing that I could make a difference was indeed the true privilege of parenting!

Sometimes I listened to their woes of what’s unfair and sometimes to their joy of recognition or honors. Not every moment of life was perfect but, with a mother in the background to soothe their aching hearts when friendships broke and rewards were bypassed, even the most difficult challenges became bearable.

Wherever I went I was praised for my glorious children. They were bright, respectful, caring, and motivated – a truly rare blend.

My children knew they had a mother that cared and they shared their concerns. Sometimes they shared privately and sometimes around the dinner table. It was my job to be there and I took that position very seriously.

……..

The Pressures Start

What follows is an abridged version of the trauma I experienced.

As the twins were turning two I would notice that far away look again in Michael. It seemed more pronounced now. When I would question him all I got was that he was tired from the recent overload at work and from being busy with the kids. He began to sleep at odd hours and was not around for his usual father time with the children.

I tried to be forceful and to insist that he gets a full medical. He, however, waved away my concern and refused any suggestions.

Thus being busy with the children and no longer having Michael as a team player I was hard hit when I received the crushing news that my father had collapsed. He was alive but barely so. They said his heart was bad and that he would need major surgery. My life became a whirlwind as I moved in and out of my various obligations.

The last thing I had expected though was to have my mother-in-law that was now watching two-year-old Penina and Elana suddenly say she can no longer babysit. She did not give any excuse nor did she show any emotion for all the turmoil in my life. She simply walked out leaving me floundering. All her heartfelt promises were forgotten. At a time of crisis when families tend to stand together to dispel hard times this new defining boundary was very unsettling.

I was truly overwhelmed and overwound and feeling very alone. It was an extremely difficult year. I was always running, exhausted, and feeling the strain of not being able to attend to all my responsibilities. I would rush to my father’s side, then to the business, but before I could tackle the day’s workload I was out again to rush home to be a mommy. I would attempt to weigh my options to ease my burden but barely had time to think.

Dalia and Daniel were teenagers now and although my mother-in-law was cold to me she continued a warm friendship with the children and they loved her. I could not imagine a better way for a child to spend their time than with a grandparent. Occasionally when the kids would return from their visits they seemed distant and if I can say, possibly a tiny winy disrespectful. Overall they remained well mannered and studious. When I found their speech lower than my standards I would ask them to repeat themselves respectfully and left it at that.

Surprisingly, a year later, when the pressures had somewhat settled, my mother-in-law was back. With her soft-spoken charm and gentle warmth she apologized for leaving me when I needed her and admitted that it was wrong. She claimed she loved me and that she felt obligated to me for being a wonderful wife to her son. She spent a long time speaking to me telling me repeatedly that she now sees that all I had ever meant was kindness. Times were hard and I truly felt I could use her support. I too felt it would be wonderful for the children to see their mother’s forgiving personality. Sadly, in my naivety I trusted her.

I later learned professionals in the field of abuse caution that expressing regret and asking for forgiveness is another tactic of the revolving cycle of abuse. It is known as “hoovering” – a form of sucking in a victim once again into an exploitive relationship.

Another year went by during which Michael continued to move from days of being functional to days of additional sleepy hours. Sometimes I would look at him and his face seemed pale and his eyes looked watery. I could not place what was happening. For all my insisting he still played the denial game that all was well.

Having had enjoyed a close relationship with my mother-in-law not that long back I chose to broach the subject with her once again. I asked her if she noticed anything different about Michael. I watched her closely but all she did was flip her head saying “no”. She quickly changed the subject to speak about her shopping sprees or the children’s latest achievements. I was further left puzzled.

Michael still went to work and brought home a paycheck so we were able to function. However, over the years little by little, Michael’s occasional low’s turned to daily nightmares. His original sweetness and thirst for life was sadly missing. At first it looked like a bad day, then maybe a reaction to a crisis. After years though it seemed clear that something was amiss. I did not yet know what it was and that it would tie me down far more than I ever imagined.

Feeling mystified I tried to broach the subject again with my mother in law hoping dearly that she would come round and offer her support, but once again she turned her head in denial.

More so, much of the coldness that I had originally experienced intensified. When I would join the family for gatherings or weddings I would once again feel my mother-in-law’s cold stares. She would invite me to sit near her yet she would not speak to me or face me. She would tell everyone good-bye but not even send me a wink of recognition.

Yet, the next morning she would call me all friendly and ask me how I enjoyed the wedding. Sometimes I would respond trustfully and other times I tried to ease my way out of speaking to her. Her presence began to connote a strong sense of devaluation towards me that was very painful.

I was to learn that for others the embrace was a given, but for me love would be conditional. As long as I negated my own needs and passed credit to the ‘power family’ I would not be harmed. Only much later did I realize that having spoken about a weakness in her son I was now no longer eligible for her friendship.

At the time though as my mother-in-law continued to come by and to chat with the kids and to invite them over, I could not figure out whether she was my friend or not. All I knew was that she was moving in and out of my emotions and wreaking havoc on my equilibrium. She could sit across the table from me and appear totally friendly yet something in me would begin to crumble. Like a skilled artist she would masterfully build up my sense of anticipation only to turn it to disappointment moments later. Likewise she could pride herself in my confidence only to follow it with a hand flip of degradation. She would thus masterfully move my emotions from upbeat to downtrodden.

Had I had some concept of a psychological game known as a trauma bond I would have understood that her shift between kindness and coldness was most likely intentional and meant to unsettle me. Essentially a trauma bond is the act of playing the endorphins of ones victim to create highs and lows. The power person using their charm to entice and deter their target, in and out of a relationship in cycles, accomplishes this. This is professionally known as orchestrating both addiction and withdrawal symptoms with the motive of having their victim appear emotionally challenged. Being by nature kind, patient, and tolerant, and inexperienced in the ways of the world, I sadly kept looking for ways to smooth things over.

My mother-in-law’s behavior though became a constant mind churner.  I continuously wondered whether she knew something about Michael that I didn’t. Why was she so secretive? Why was she pulling in and out of my life? Why was Michael okay sometimes and other times not?

I continued to be busy with the household and the business. Spare time was rare but when I had it I was happy to take my children to visit their grandparents as well as their aunts and uncles. Thus we continued to bond as a family.

With the children growing older we were beginning to think about buying our own home and where to get a mortgage. My mother-in-law being the businesswoman had all kinds of ideas to simplify the process. She knew my parents would help financially and she made it sound like the least she could do was help us with her guidance.

I had been considering using a family friend for a lawyer however my mother in law challenged me continuously as to why would I care to use a lawyer from a small practice if I could use someone well known. As I would tell her about his many success stories she would discount each one telling me that I hadn’t heard them correctly.

At that point I had no idea of the concept of causing someone to doubt themselves to weaken them. Thus to keep the peace I stepped aside.

In time she found us a lawyer, a family friend of hers and had us all set up to apply for a mortgage. Within a short time we moved to a beautiful home in the area and I totally forgot about the incident. It wasn’t a major incident, although it did reflect my mother-in-law’s firm need to control us.

A few more years went by where Michael seemed peaceful for the most part. Then once again when my youngest was five and my teenagers were thinking of college the storm returned.

I was older and wiser now. Without any absolute answer I began to suspect that Michael was using substances that were stealing his personality. I began to watch him very closely and sure enough there it was. He was drowning himself in drugs and single-handedly creating destruction all around him.

I chose to confront him and to demand that it’s either he gets treatment or I will speak to his rabbi. Sadly, he cried. He cried for a long time. He told me he had been addicted to drugs on and off ever since he had been ill as a child. That fighting the pull of the painkillers he had taken back then was a daily struggle. He painfully related that he hadn’t meant to keep me in the loop and it was a great cause of concern to him. That he thought often of whether he was doing the right thing by not telling me. He begged me to bear with him and that he would do whatever it took to get clean.

I made sure to contact my mother-in-law to let her know that Michael was going for help. She commented with ‘whatever’ and ignored anything else I said. She tried to reassure me that it was no big deal and that soon Michael will be perfect again. In my naivety I truly thought it was that simple.

For the next three years Michael was in and out of treatment. The past year though had been extremely difficult and had taken all my hopes and dreams and shattered them to nothingness.

Michael’s disease had truly reached a crisis point. He was totally dysfunctional and could no longer stay sober long enough to care for his personal needs. There was only one choice and that was to sign him in to a rehab.

…….

Hard Years

As the hard years were trickling in and the children were growing up I tried to balance our lives unaware to what extend these hard times would impact us. Luckily my children had had a very strong early childhood and were ready scholastically and socially. Thus as I attended to my new burdens, the children continued to thrive. Even though I could not always join them, I was still there to cheer them on, attend all their major milestones and even some of their smaller ones!

My heart ached each time I could not sit beside them for our usual family time and for the loss they felt watching me with so many responsibilities.

Yet I felt strongly that I was Michael’s family now. I too had wonderful memories of Michael as a loving husband and father. Having Michael’s promise that he would do the utmost to seek treatment I could not desert him. If he wasn’t doing well it was my job to keep the nest together. I lived with the full hope that Michael would regain his former healthy spirit.

Life was hard. Michael wasn’t well. My father was ill and my mother needed my help. My children were acting strangely from all the turmoil. We no longer had the support of my parents. The twins were still at a tender age and needed my care. My business needed more time than I could presently give it and the balance sheet was showing red. The mortgage had to be paid if we wanted a roof over our heads.

Worst of all, was the return of my mother-in-law’s coldness. The friendship I had invested in with her was no where to be found. She was full of anger and rage towards me insisting that it was I that had made her son so ill. She was fuming that I had placed him in the rehab claiming he was perfectly fine. She couldn’t live with the thought of having a son that was in a drug rehab facility and I was the perfect person to carry that blame.

Little did I realize at the time that being that my mother-in-law was a woman who valued her pride above all else that she would make sure that the world will see who was the dysfunctional one here. She would make certain it wouldn’t be her son.

All my life I had been a proud and independent woman. Thinking of asking for help was never a conscious thought I entertained. In my mind that was a by-product of those that were seeking an easy way out or for those who refused to grow up. I though had been hard working and responsible. Yet, looking around I had to face the harsh reality that if I did not reach out now for support I could lose my business. That frightened me.

Although parents never wish to have to reach out to their children for help unfortunately I found myself in a position of sharing my woes with them. I was sure they would be a source of emotional support to me during this crisis and with our combined talents we would rise above the challenges. My two oldest children were young adults now, married and on their own. I thus contacted my oldest daughter Racheli but was shocked to experience her coldness. Although my pressures were huge she felt confident passing on simple solutions. Her guidance was far from anything that would allow me to survive. But all she saw was a disillusioned woman that was creating chaos where none existed.

I was overwhelmed by the financial pressure and tried to weigh my options. I truly did not want to weaken my home by spending all my hours in the business. I wanted to be a mother, too. I therefore spoke to my son, Noam, now living in England that had some interest in joining the business to see if he wished to come back to San Diego to learn the trade. I found his responses as well totally out of character.

I was stunned not only by his response but more so by the tone of it. It wasn’t his nature to respond without sensitivity. He is a kind-hearted soul, both caring and giving. Even today for a living he works for a social service agency and as an aside he works with a disabled child. He was always the child who would do things around the home before anyone knew it even had to get done.

Yet, like he would have been responding to a magazine write-up he made suggestions that would demand even more pressure from me at a time that I was crumbling. With steadfast indifference he claimed I was an adult and had choices, that I could take a loan from the bank or I could take on a second job.

I later heard through the grapevine that my son felt if my business wasn’t doing well I should accept that I was a failure and that I had now become a charity case. In his opinion it was my job to submit to those who were successful.

This was exceptionally painful for me to hear as I had always raised them to be sensitive to the needs of others. Above all was the role model I presented throughout my marriage of being there for my family. My devotion was especially significant as I stood alongside my husband as he struggled to rise above his challenges. I could not understand where a child of mine had developed the concept that family should judge whether to be there for one another. Yet, here were my very own children that saw no emotional connection in helping me rebuild my life and save my pride.

I also had no clue where they developed the thought that I was a failure. It seemed inconceivable that a woman that ran a beautiful home and was running a business would not be considered competent. It was simply the crisis that was pulling me down. Yet, my children were in total denial that their mother was in any crisis. The only crisis they saw was that their mother was struggling with the bills which they interpreted as ‘not coping’.

Noam had actually been in San Diego a few days earlier and had spent considerable time with my mother-in-law. He did share that he discussed my financial situation with her but no more than that. Being that my mother-in-law was a middle-aged woman of considerable prestige that had been a central part of my family life she became the go-to person for my children during this time. It did not worry me though as I had never hurt her.

True, she was not offering any tactical help and she was upset with me for placing Michael in the rehab. She still though remained a central figure moving in and out of my life. She continued to display as what appeared like friendship towards me and even listened to my struggles. Her expressions would register sensitivity. This threw me off guard and I did not yet know to be cautious of her.

Thus as my mother in law walked in one morning and commented about a note on the phone reminding me to call Noam I still looked towards her respectfully. Therefore, I listened attentively as she ever so sweetly stated ‘why would you want to call Noam? I don’t think he wants to have anything to do with you now. He doesn’t like pressure. He told me he just wants to be happy’.

With her pleasant voice and her head tilted towards me she presented as a perfect image of a caring person that is sorry to share this but letting me know so I won’t waste my time.

It made absolutely no sense that Noam should turn this cold towards me. Everything around me was so confusing I could not begin to pinpoint what was happening. Only much later would I realize that this was one of her earliest attempts in isolating me from my children.

It was only much later that I learned that my mother-in-law’s charisma gave her the power to create the energy and sensationalism in the room when speaking to others. Thus without their awareness her listeners feelings would naturally metamorphose towards her. Once she would capture their psyches and then reward them with her smile and friendship it would truly take a very courageous person to realize their minds were played.

Had she already captured Noam? Was Dalia next?

There was still my daughter Dalia. It was summer time and she was free of her classes without any specific summer plans. I was drowning in debt and thought to ask for her help. She knew the business well as she had been brought up in it. Yet, she too, under the encouragement of her siblings, refused to help out. More so, she became extremely moody and refused to talk to me. She looked like she was in pain yet she would spurn my compassionate gestures towards her. I had always had a warm relationship with her and was totally lost trying to figure her out. What stood out above all was being told by my older children that Dalia is moody because I am difficult.

…….

Isolation

I was being condemned for being overly sensitive and analytical as well. Even before I opened my mouth to speak contempt was visible. No one validated my perspective and my speaking only led to more faultfinding. Each interaction with my children left me drained.

Things were getting so difficult that it came to the point where I bought some beautiful and useful gifts for my grandchildren only to receive a retort of “You have to buy expensive presents! That’s not what we need a mother for!” I was looking for some way to reach them and thought to try gifts as well. Sadly, this too, backfired.

Of course, the most difficult challenge was the loss of my children. As you continue to read you will gain a far greater understanding of the trauma involved in losing the trust and affection of one’s own children.

Feeling very alone and knowing I would need support as I moved on I contacted my two brothers that I had been closely in touch with throughout the years. Initially they were very supportive. As time moved on though and I began to quiver from the weight of it all they were quick to pick up the rumors that I was overreacting. The loss of their trust hurt me deeply. It was another crushing pain. Another shock.

My life became a whirlwind. There wasn’t anyone to ease my huge burden and I worked round the clock to survive. There seemed to be no effort to understand my perspective.

Further in their continued spirit of coldness my children offered me a handout. I had been a very proud woman. I could not bear to watch their newly united authoritative role content to see me as needy. With their offer being void of love and empathy my dignity would not allow me to accept it. More so, their offer would still have left me in dire straights. What I needed far more was a feeling that I am not alone and had their support.

I was soon to learn that weakness breeds contempt. That once I had been isolated during a crisis I would automatically find myself spinning. At the verge of collapse from trying to keep it all together I would be labeled ‘weak’. Once I would be labeled ‘unable to cope’ aggression and contempt would follow.

Wherever I went people stared at me. When I asked a friend if I looked that bad, the response was that I looked like someone about to faint. The constant mind juggling, of which way to create the least turmoil, was taking its toll. I barely held together and was truly afraid of falling apart.

Notwithstanding my fallout with my mother-in-law my children began spending endless time with her. To my great chagrin she supported them fully in their pain of a troubled mother. She bought them many gifts and spent endless time with them. She praised them highly for their achievements and made them feel like stars in the clouds.

With them being raised high and me being the one burdened with the blame the playing field was now unbalanced. My children were on top and me below. Thus they felt comfortable with their upper handedness and I could not reach them. Whatever I did, whichever way I turned, I was held in contempt. Any remnant of my dignity was lost.

Little did I realize back then that my children were being love-bombed and that the constant flattery is not love but rather a means to give the abuser power over his victim. The love works like a drug keeping the child on an emotional high which they will translate as true love and will not want to shed. Thus with their finer senses dulled they become detached and distant from the parent that has sacrificed endlessly for them and loves them dearly. The abuser now has free reign to continue the process of devaluation of the targeted parent.

It wasn’t long before a totally new condemnation was placed on me with my children claiming that they are afraid of me. Old stories would pop up that had barely any resemblance to a painful incident yet I was being hounded for causing them to fear me.

I was to learn that the goal of the abuser is to turn a harmless entity into a fearsome enemy. Once the fear is set animosity will ensue on it’s own.

Most unbelievable of all was that as I struggled to keep my head above water, my mother-in-law ever so gently shared I should not contact the community rabbi as he was presently dealing with an ill wife. This would have been my backbone having lost every other source of support.

Feeling overwhelmed, I mentioned to her that I would speak to a well-known rabbinical figure in a neighboring community that was highly respected. With that she quickly responded that it was not advisable as she thought poorly of him.

Still not knowing that my mother-in-law was seeking to crush me I shared with her that I had written a letter to my children describing my sense of aloneness and the burden I was carrying. I had it with me and showed it to her. She read it word for word and gently told me that she would not recommend that I share this with them. She further guided me that young people think differently and it could work against me. Knowing she was older and wiser I sadly took her guidance.

Strangely, due to my mother-in-law’s charisma, I still had no idea at that point that she was plying away bit by bit at each resource of support that I might have.

Very unnerving too was that she would either offer confusing guidance or she would silence me from reaching out for other sources of help. Whichever way I would turn to find an opening out of my crisis I would be blocked.

She wasn’t though finished crushing me. Before long she began to criticize everything about my home. Sadly, I was the one that let her in thinking she was a friend. She then attacked my parenting yelling at me that I raised nasty and disrespectful children. Yet, she was fast friends with them. She additionally faulted me that I didn’t show her appreciation for all she had done for me.

The worst blow of all was when she told me that I wasn’t even a loving mother as I wasn’t home with the children because I was busy with their father.

This stung hard. Very hard.

My entire being clammed up and stiffened and the tears flowed. They wouldn’t stop. I was in shock. This was an extreme attack on my personhood and my Torah-true value system. I knew I should have been admired and supported for my devotion. How could she possibly stab me with that which was actually my strength?

Wasn’t it a gift to my children that I stood beside their father during his personal crisis? What greater gift can a mother give her child than to save their home, their security, and their faith in their parents’ loyalty?

As is sadly true when trying to bring someone down the abuser will condemn any type of behavior he has the power to influence. The more the target seems to be in the wrong the less respect she will garner.

With my mother-in-law adding additional hardships at a time of crisis and discouraging any supportive resources I obviously floundered. She thus smoothly and ‘innocently’ fabricated the evidence that I was weak and not coping.

With all the love I was extending to my family and my home, it would not be natural for me to expect anything other than appreciation from my husband’s family. After all, he was their child/sibling and I was being so very kind to him.

I had no idea of the concept of control, nor of the understanding of psychological games. It was only as the years moved on and patterns of behaviors increasingly unfolded that I began to question what had otherwise seemed like the ups and downs of typical family interactions.

Over time I would gain the intuition to see a full cycle of ploys to maintain an upper handedness over any significant choices I made in my life. It was then that I learned terms like trauma bonding, abuse, and parental alienation. Tragically as is often the case, once I saw through their shady behaviors much damage had been done.

The reader is probably assuming that I raised disrespectful children. Yet, we are speaking about the softest, kindest, members of society. My children were raised with love and compassion and were highly praised for their mannerisms and sense of responsibility. They are also hard workers, devoted to their families, and high achievers.

Parenting was a lifetime task for me and my children thrived. I was an extremely proud mother. I had a wonderful home, and had lots of loving friends. Yet, when the crisis hit, any offer to assist their mother was suggested without any warmth or understanding. I could have been the sign-holding fellow at the mall with a cup in my hand. Something was clearly wrong. Who was stealing their natural feelings for their mother?

Furthermore, if I questioned anything about my mother-in-law I was immediately faulted for doubting in her extreme goodness. To them she was a true g-dly figure. My children further protected their grandmother that she had every right to walk off during my crisis, as she never owed me anything. I felt far differently. Having promised to be there for me and cementing a relationship over many years, her sudden dropping me when I needed her most, was a betrayal of her trust. This betrayal was extremely painful. Yet my children scorned my painful emotions. I was condemned for seeing a fault where there was only normalcy.

My children continued to remain distant and I could not gain their understanding that I was hurting due to my isolation at a time of crisis. They insisted that I had no real problem and it was all in my imagination. Thus began an era of their thinking nothing of crushing me with continuous blows. Instead of tuning in to the depth of my crisis they seemed content to label me difficult, unable to cope, and wanting to be in pain.

To keep communication safe I tried to engage my children via a third party thinking it would place them in a position to be more respectful. I was stunned though to receive similar piercing responses. When I asked my mediator to question their behavior they sharply retorted that I am always looking back and therefore it is me that is asking for trouble. Each response and each expression was another stab in my already pained soul. Most fascinating was that when I questioned my children for examples of ways in which I wasn’t coping they were blank. All I got was ‘everyone knows’ but they could not come up with a single example.

During this time, with Michael in rehab, my father not well, the business floundering, my children having turned away, my brothers having turned away, I would often express my painful feelings of aloneness to any child of mine that would give me a minute to listen. It all fell on deaf ears. Over and over I would hear that there is no problem. Thus they brushed me off saying that I have loving children and it’s all in my head.

I was further condemned for not being a good mother. I could not have been more stunned. In typical alienation format, they claimed that they felt unsafe, unloved and unwanted. One child went as far as to say, ‘If you won’t love us the way we are you will lose the love of all your children’. Another told me that I didn’t follow the five rules in the latest parenting book. I had though followed a million rules of a parenting heart. While yet another insisted there was never anything wrong with Daddy.

Hearing that there was nothing wrong with Daddy was truly an extra heavy blow. If they could not accept his illness how would they be able to fathom the love I had for them as I sacrificed day in and day out so they would not be affected too harshly.

More hurtful comments followed which are too painful to mention here. All of them though were demeaning and disdainful. Just writing these words once again brings back the slicing anguish I faced with each encounter as I tried to rebuild with my children.

Remaining determined that I will find a way to reach them I continued to steer myself towards reconnecting.  Knowing there was a lot of anger towards me I braced myself for the off-chance of hearing something I had done that I may not have remembered. Yet the ‘sins’ they blamed me for were part and parcel of normal everyday family life. It revolved mostly around the times I either failed to give a compliment or if I ever said something not complimentary. There was no mention of the daily loving compliments I did give. As a mother I felt it was my place to mention disapproving mannerisms. I would do so privately. Yet I was hounded for it.

Was it possible that I lost my children to the rare occasions when I may have challenged a behavior of theirs? I would twirl this thought through my mind unrelentingly. I could not come to grips that after all I gave and sacrificed I could lose them so easily.  I was a very social person and recalled many incidents of family and friends that were actually neglectful and hurtful. Yet, their relationships with their children remained loving.

Knowing I needed more answers to come to grips with their coldness, the next time I had an opportunity to question Racheli I asked her what was the worst thing I ever did to her as a mother? As I stood back ready to hear the guilty verdict of a near- criminal act, I was stunned that she simply blamed me for faulting her for leaving her markers on the floor after I asked her to clean her room. That was it. What did stand out though was the accusatory manner in which it was presented.

Next, I tried Noam. However, all he mentioned was that I wouldn’t allow him to winterize our home when he came to visit in September. He condemned me for not allowing him to be helpful. Being that he lived in England that was important. In San Diego with milder weather, I truly preferred the fresh air breezes and told him so. I never imagined he would hold this simple encounter against me.

As we can see parental alienation has no connection to the reality. It is devised to fit the mindset of the manipulator to create an atmosphere of alienation to suit her personal needs. Often true incidents are used. However, the impact of the event is misinterpreted or exaggerated to appear like negligence or incompetence on the part of the targeted parent.

Despite their coldness so many of my children were in pain. One child would sit on the couch and stare into thin space while another would scream ‘this pain is terrible’. It tore at me to watch it and to be totally helpless to change it. Sadly, my children no longer regarded me as a trustworthy figure in their lives and refused any gestures of understanding and compassion. Most likely they were experiencing the unbearable emotional pain of dissonance. Ultimately they knew that their mother was a woman of character. Yet, with cunning skill a person that is highly respected in their world was showing them otherwise. This creates a terrible confusion that causes immense emotional pain as they try to sort out the world they know with the world they are being presented.

Once the abuser has them in this uncomfortable mind-state she is free to recreate their world with her view to soften their emotional pain. Being a well-loved grandmother and reputable woman in the community she stands tall and reliable before them. To ease their own discomfort they are prone to take her up on her theories that their mother has issues. Once again the abuser has passed another stage of her plan.

On their part the pain was their feeling that they had a difficult and tense mother. All their shocking behaviors, as well as the overwork had taken their toll and I truly appeared broken.

Things continued to go downhill. My children appeared perfectly comfortable taking the advisor we-know-better role. This authoritative disdain towards me was a totally strange characteristic of theirs. As I cringed from their upper handedness I was further blamed for not respecting them. This too I was to learn is typical of children alienated from their parent.

When speaking to a highly regarded therapist he clarified that regardless of whether my children speak of their love or present a facade of my weakness they are essentially expressing the same concept – that of fortifying my position as victim.

To the untrained eye the changes were subtle. The games of deception delicately moved my relationship with my children from affection to apathy, from familial to coolness, and from fondness to indifference. This created uneasiness between us in which the children felt supported amongst each other under the leadership of the power figure and I alone was disconnected. This predictably snowballed and soon there was a rift between my children and me. From there my every action was held in contempt. All the normal motherly gestures, such as gifts, or affection, got cold shoulders. The course for devaluing was set. Tragically once the devaluation has gained momentum the victim continues to fall as the pawns begin to justify their actions. I became trapped.

The angst and contempt of my children were daily experiences now. Yet, no matter how I worded or portrayed their uncharacteristic behaviors, everyone normalized it. Each bit and piece would be pulled apart and rationalized in their favor. My children insisted that they would truly love to have me in their lives ‘if only I would behave like a mother’. Ouch! Over and over the fault would lie with me.

Sadly, as I looked around for a thread to grasp to help with my struggle I found that each rope that was built through a lifetime of devotion was merely a wisp in the wind of time. The manipulator has played her game well. Skillfully and cunningly she built and shielded her fortress while myself, her victim, remained oblivious.

Emerging from my cocoon of a safe and loving family I found a rather strange, cold, and unfamiliar conundrum of faces. Their love, devotion, and camaraderie, which had been my joy in life, were gone. I had clearly ‘fallen from grace’. But what had I done?

Shock

The shocks kept coming. I tried to face my new world where everyone had turned away leaving me crushed and humiliated. Suddenly there was a message from a friend of my mother-in-law’s that my mother-in-law would love to help me rebuild my business. She is though requesting that I sign a contract offering her decision-making powers in my business.

I know that as the readers takes in this incredible manipulation they begin to process a strategic maneuver that had taken place to leave me desperate and most likely willing to sign anything to save myself. How could I not have seen her true colors? Yet, being that she was well respected it didn’t dawn on me that she was deceitful.

Additionally other than the few times she yelled she was extremely courteous and respectful towards me. Her gifts and hugs continued as well. She continued to present as a woman with high morals. Even going as far as asking me from time to time if I thought she was sensitive enough of how she spoke to someone. More so, I was her target so it was only to me that she displayed these behaviors. Thus without an awareness of abusive tactics I had little to go on.

Although I didn’t have a clue as to what she wanted, I understood enough that we don’t easily sign away our personal securities. With that I waved away her offer.

Of course having her join my business would have restored a measure of financial security in my life but I would also be putting myself into a state of dependency, one that had caused me so much grief in the first place.

As I was gaining awareness of the strength of the shrewdness surrounding me I shared with a wise therapist friend that I was fearful of accepting this reality. I foresaw that I would be breaking away from a family unit in which everyone felt one way and I alone felt another way. To that, she brilliantly responded, ‘but you will be the healthy one’. Although the healthy part is small consolation as it’s an extremely painful place to find oneself.

Surprisingly, I still had no clue as to the weight of influence that was energizing my children’s cold shoulders. Thinking that sooner or later I’ll tackle this madness, I tried to be loving and accepting to keep our relationship from falling apart. Tragically though, as I tried to bring us closer together I found the playing field widening more and more.

My children wondered why I was in pain. Their actions, they reasoned, were normal and once again they claimed my attitude was creating my own problems. They insisted that I think too much and thus have so many problems. They also said it was my sensitivity that was impacting my relationships with them. They saw themselves as extremely good children, despite their constant upper handedness.

Without my children’s awareness that there was deception in the background, to them I was reacting abnormally to a normal situation. Whereas once the true betrayal is noted, we find the reaction perfectly normal.

In perfect manipulative fashion the objective of the game is for it to appear like the target is creating her own dilemmas and pain, when in reality a series of cunning psychological ploys is causing the anguish. The abuser will begin by first grooming his target through flattery and gifts to earn her trust. She will then use her victim for as long as she sees fit. Eventually she will discard her systematically in much the same fashion that she once groomed her. This ploy is known as ‘idealize, devalue, and discard’.

…

Wake up Call

I never imagined that one day I would find myself gasping in horror at the realization that a series of manipulative ploys had wrecked havoc on the family I painstakingly built. That evidence would be fabricated to place me in the role of blame although I had no clue of what was transpiring. My intellectual feats, sacrifice and accomplishments would fall through the wayside.

Strangely these are all elements that are noted in children that are alienated from one parent by another, usually during a divorce. I, however, had never been divorced. I was a hard working wife struggling with an alcoholic husband. How could Parental Alienation possibly be taking place in my home?

I always viewed myself as fair, hardworking, and respectful of the needs and boundaries of others. What would encourage a person to seek to entangle my family with hard feelings and conflict? Was there some characteristic of mine that necessitated slicing me out of their lives? Did I own something of value that my falling from grace would force me to surrender?

Everyone in my world had seemed like a friend. Who was doing it? What was their motive?

Could it be my mother-in-law? Who was she really?

Like a bombshell it hit me… with waves and waves of pain…..my breath stopped….my tears flowed….my entire body cramped and I barely stood. With a thunder-like suddenness on a sunny summer day I realized I had been played.

I had heard of stories where children were alienated from parents and I had also heard of people that lost their businesses to having given their signatures to those they trusted. There seemed too many probabilities in my history to erase the concept that my mother-in-law had exploited me for her own gain.

I had come full circle and experienced the complete drama of shell shock, a painful state of confusion resulting from experiencing surprise, no escape, and exhaustion at the same time.

My pain was huge. My world fell apart at every seam. Yet, most painful of all was the loss of my cherished and loving children.

Sadly, by the time I realized what was taking place my children’s minds were already conditioned to see me as a victim and all my efforts to undo the damage would fail.

I realize it is most difficult to reframe my children’s thinking as they ‘saw’ their mother’s vulnerability themselves as I reacted to the multiple shocks as they came one over the over. Naturally, I developed a state of cautiousness, which to the children who were not aware of the betrayal, is a totally delusional state of caution. This is a huge win for the abuser. She has succeeded in planting the evidence she will need to frame me to meet her goals.

The shocks of the multiple losses cause anguish, impacting on the person’s usual sense of joy. This gives the blackmailer an additional component to exploit her subject by claiming, ‘look at her, she has so much good in life yet she is broken’. Thus she implies that her target’s pain must be ‘all in her head’! – The Ultimate Silencing

I hoped I would have the strength to pull myself together as I weathered the many storms in my life along with the difficult task of earning a living and caring for an ill spouse in addition to my other obligations.

As trauma survivors we desperately want someone to back us so the break off from our familiar social circle will not be so painful. I was to learn that it does not happen that way. Once we realize we are being abused it takes risk and courage to remove ourselves and to remain confident.

Did my mother-in-law time her crushing blows to coincide with my financial loss, the contempt of my children, and a time of sky-high pressures? Would all these shocks, on top of the blame that I myself raised these nasty children, prove to wreck havoc on my psyche considering that they were coming at a time of crisis?

Trying to gain understanding that the woman I had once loved betrayed me was even harder. I felt numb and lost in a world where I had no footing.

How many more blows would I survive? We all feel stronger when life has love, meaning, and anticipation. Yet all of that has been taken away. With the pain so great from my loss it was hard to continue to find meaning in building my life. And what future was there to look towards if my own children had become strangers to me.

Is this the moment the world calls “the point of no return”. Is this the crush that causes people to give up? It’s a terrible place to be.

I craved to crush the grief and insurmountable anguish. Somewhere within myself I would find the resources. I held firmly to that belief and faced the currents.

……

Over many years, many interviews, and visits and chats with professionals I learned about the art of manipulation and how it was played in my life. I was guided to see that first I was groomed to trust, then isolated from my loved ones, and finally when I was all alone, I was exploited for the benefit of the abuser. To cover up the crime the blame was additionally placed on me. I was told that it is an extremely painful experience and that I should seek l help for complex trauma. Meanwhile, I was told that my strong sense of awareness would be my greatest gift in surviving the anguish this ordeal had wrought.

The tables have been turned. Although I had asked my mother-in-law for her help as my husband was not functioning, now she has created an atmosphere where it is clear that it is me that’s incompetent. She has saved her pride.

……..

The Pain

No write-up on the subject of Parental Alienation would be complete without a strong focus of the pain. It’s a searing pain experienced in the midst of your loved ones who now surround you as strangers. It’s a slave labor of continuing the journey of life weighted down with the intensity of a deep and weary sadness . Where once there was an overload of energy from the sheer sunshine of raising delightful children, today there is only the grind of the pain as we pull through our days.

Waking up to the reality of one’s life’s work flowing into the river is beyond bearable! It’s like losing all your senses, your possessions, your friends, your loved ones, and trying to stay grounded. Each breath stings and your shattered nerves refuse to calm you down.

Above that there is the unrelenting grief of powerlessness. You see that your children have been captured into the net of an abductor that is using them for their personal needs. Yet their minds are so interwoven in this unhealthy relationship that there is no way to reach them.

With all these life altering wars pulling you, life must go on. You take your heavy baggage, far heavier than is humanly possible to carry and move on, a thin line from crushed. The hurt is your own torture chamber. Every organ is crying. Your entire value system and sense of purpose has been challenged.

With each new bang of another crushed attempt at reconciling it would take a few days for me to find new hope. Then once again I would regain my equilibrium and be back on the trail to fight for those I loved.

“Pain” is not even a hairsbreadth of the wretched emotions I live with as I watch the children that I raised with so much love and sacrifice walk away from the mother that loves them far more than they are even capable of imagining. It’s an inner anguish that’s tearing at me and destroying me.

Dr. Warshak, a renown expert on alienation writes that “therapists who work with parents who have lost children to parental alienation, note the tremendous grief they encounter in trying to help these parents accept their loss”.

One mother has described the pain of parental alienation in her journal as follows: It’s just sheer horrific pain every day. There’s nothing like it and nothing you can do about it. You can’t escape from it. Can’t hide from it. It follows you, haunts you, cuts you like a knife and your gut wrenches and doubles you up. It sours you on everything and you become sick and have to sit and can’t think because you can’t do anything when you’re cloaked in that kind of emotional pain.

What happened to all the sacrifices I made to protect my children from stigma and bullying and to shield them from wounded pride? What happened to the wealth of motherly love my children experienced?

I want to yell, scream, howl, bang doors and crush windows, but it will not help. It will only further the power of the manipulator that I am truly insane. Yet why even exert all that energy to kindle their contempt. Tragically, it’s enough if they just see me. My every move is held against me.

Why are they picking on pieces of sawdust, such as the one time ‘you didn’t compliment me’ and creating a mountain of it. What happened to the other millions of times that I gave generous meaningful compliments?

I continue to show love for them and to seek any thread to help me reconnect to my children. I remain cautious though offering love, yet careful that I do not give the impression that I validate their altered view.

They yearn for their mother’s love. Sadly, though, it is love for a mother that they perceive ‘was not there for them’.

I have followed the guidance of professionals to build my own self-esteem, take nothing from them, and move on with grace. The rift remains and seems to grow rather than diminish.

To help me understand all the confusion in my family I chose to write up my story as you have just read. I tried to cover the isolation, confusion and blame that were the first red flags; followed by the sudden distrust of my children, and their misplaced motives of my actions. I tried as well to formulate the tactics of creating hostility via concocting devaluation and fear and to convey the process of breaking trust, conditioning dependency, and administering shocks.

Presented were also the brilliant maneuvers utilized to draw attention away from the true abuse unto lesser issues. Perhaps, most painful of all, is the realization that she conditioned me through her initial kindness to work as a pawn against myself.

The cunning strategy of reassurance is played throughout the tenure of the crush. Upon awakening to the fallacies of all the reassurances the victim finds herself in an atmosphere of total social destruction with no way to reenter gracefully. She is trapped. Sadly at that point she realizes that the good friend is the true blackmailer.

When the game is over the victim is left on the low end with the blackmailer’s pawns, my children, on the upper end. The sport of the game-master leaves no middle ground for reconnecting.

I do hope my children will one day know their mother yearned to embrace them but that sadly it was the mindset they were coerced with that caused them to distance themselves from her.

Is it possible for my children to be aware that the angst they are feeling is the work of a spin-doctor? Wouldn’t it be heartwarming for a child to hear the depth of sacrifice their mother made to save their pride? Is there a greater gift of love a mother can give her child?

May Hashem hear our cry and answer our tefillos.

והשיב לב אבות על בנים ולב בנים על אבותם