What Is Parental Alienation

(copied and pasted from Parental Alienation Awareness Organization's website)
http://www.paawareness.org/

Parental Alienation
Awareness Organization

(PAAO)
Did You Know That...
Parental Alienation is a form of Child Abuse? 

Parental alienation (or Hostile Aggressive Parenting) is a group of behaviors that are damaging to children's mental and emotional well-being, and can interfere with a relationship of a child and either parent. These behaviors most often accompany high conflict marriages, separation or divorce. 

These behaviors whether verbal or non-verbal, cause a child to be mentally manipulated or bullied into believing a loving parent is the cause of all their problems, and/or the enemy, to be feared, hated, disrespected and/or avoided. 

Parental alienation and hostile aggressive parenting deprive children of their right to be loved by and showing love for both of their parents. The destructive actions by an alienating parent or other third person (like another family member, or even a well meaning mental health care worker) can become abusive to the child - as the alienating behaviors are disturbing, confusing and often frightening, to the child, and can rob the child of their sense of security and safety leading to maladaptive emotional or psychiatric reactions. 

Most people do not know about Parental Alienation and Hostile Aggressive Parenting until they experience it. Parental Alienation Awareness is put forth to help raise awareness about the growth in the problem of targeting children and their relationship in healthy and loving parent/child bond.
We need your help to protect the innocent, ...the children. 

We need your help to educate and make aware to the public the effects of Parental Alienation and Hostile Aggressive Parenting. 

If you've been affected by Parental Alienation or know someone who has, or are a past victim of a parent who exhibited Hostile Aggressive Parenting, please write and tell us your story. We will add your story to our letters page for everyone around the world to publish in their local magazines, newspapers, etc. Please remember to keep your story to the telling of the confusion, loss, love, and heartache. Please refrain from excessive anger and verbally assaulting anyone in your letters. 

The aim of the Awareness is to make the general public, judges, police officers, mental health care workers, child protection agencies, lawyers, as well as friends and family of the targeted children or their parents become aware of this growing problem. 

With awareness comes education and understanding, and the power to stop the abuse of innocent children caught in the crossfire of people they love. 

Happy 17th Birthday Daughter

To my Daughter:

You will be seventeen tomorrow.  Seventeen years ago you came into this world.  I gave birth to you on a Sunday evening at around seven, on the 30th of June.  You were in my life for just eleven short years.  Although that is not entirely true.  You are in my life still.  In my heart, in my thoughts.  I see you everywhere in skinny, long-legged eleven year old girls.

Oh daughter, how could I know that you would be gone from me, and how could I have known to prevent it? You were such a mama's girl, still with your chunky childish writing and putting kitty stickers on your letter to me--presumably your own idea to write it-- that you wanted to live with your dad and itemizing your things that you wanted from home, from me.

You are still a skinny little girl to me with your hair thick as a horse's.  But you are seventeen.   I can't imagine what you are like now.  How has life molded you with the hardships that you have endured?  Are you still impulsive and inquisitive?  Do you still have that impudent attitude, the way you would say, "MOM!  Why do you walk like that?  WHY do you talk like that?"  Insisting that I buy you high heels at ten years old.  (I did not buy you any.)  Now you don't need high heels.  I know you are almost six feet tall.  Although I can't imagine it.  I can't imagine having to look up at you as I talk to you.

I can only remember the little girl you were, still fairly unscarred from life.  Still believing if you demanded it enough you would get what you wanted, and often times you did.  I reminisce about the fun we had, being silly together, how we would just laugh and laugh.  I remember playing Barbies with you when you were little.  I would play the daughter and you would be the mom with your Barbie, and I would make the little girl yell and scream and throw tantrums.  Laughing you would say, "Mom, don't make me pee my pants."  And you would tell me while we were playing Barbies, "Ok, make her be nice now."  But I would still make the little girl cry and whine, and giggling you would run out of the room to the bathroom.

Oh Daughter, what do I want to say to you?  So many, many things.  Six years worth.  If I could I would go back and do everything in my life differently to prevent ever being away from you.  To prevent you having to grow up without your mother.  I am so sorry you've believed I don't want to be with you, and that I abandoned you, that I don't love you and am a dangerous person for you to be around.  I know you have thought those things because you told a mutual acquaintance.  And it rips my heart in two to know my daughter believes I don't love her and that I abandoned her.  Please know I love you more than I can express and I never intended to be away from you, or for you to be away from me.

I have so many memories.  Memories of you as a chubby, happy baby.  Memories of Christmases and birthdays, and just ordinary days of us doing ordinary stuff.  Together. That is what I have of you Daughter--memories.  I don't have the present and I don't have the future.  I have the past where you were in my life and I was your mother.  I have hopes for you and wishes for myself.  I hope that we are together again.  That I get to be a mother to you.

And I have hopes for you that are just for you.  That you are happy.  That you are well-adjusted and secure with good self-esteem.  That you like yourself and are your own best friend, and have dreams for the future.  And that somewhere deep down you know you have a mother who loves you.  More than anything.

It Could Happen

I work with kids.  It is both horrible and wonderful.  It forces me to relive the experiences with my kids when they were the current ages of the children I work with.  It compels me to remember when  I am trying to forget.

It is too painful to relive the memories when my children have just vanished from my life completely.  Children are never supposed to just be gone from your life.  They are supposed to move out as they reach adulthood and live their lives, but never just vanish.  They call, you call.  Hopefully you hear what they are doing in their lives.  I talk to mothers I work with whose kids are in college, and they talk about how they text back and forth.  Some complain the kids don't get back to them right away.  They always ask do I have kids.  I say yes.  I nod to what they say, but I have no input to give.  I don't know what it's like to have a kid in college and text them. I am not about to go into Parental Alienation with every parent I meet.  They would not understand.  Those I have told don't understand.  It is a stigma.  Unspoken.  'What have you done that you have no relationship with your children?  I could not live like that.  Why aren't you dead?'  In the first several years I really wanted to be dead.

I have not worked with teenagers.  The oldest I saw my kids as teenagers was ages16 and 14.  The beginning.  I did not live all the years.  Working with teenagers would make me sad too.  All that did not happen.

A few select people I choose to tell.  I cannot not relate my experience in raising children, and going through the stages, to working with kids.  I am trying to let go.  To accept what is.  I cannot change it.  I have tried.  Living in pain, daily regretting the past, thinking if only I didn't get divorced this would have never happened.  Changing the past in my mind in order to change the present.

 I live in my mind, in the past so much.  In my head I still do the things I last did with them: Pick them  up from school, drive them home, make yogurt smoothies. They watch TV in their bedrooms, my daughter always watches Spongebob and Icarly, the boys play video games while eating their snacks, my middle son has his friends over who I make snacks for also and my son's friends like the smoothies more than he does. Then my daughter does her homework at the kitchen table as I start dinner. I make dinner in my sunny kitchen for a family of five.  My oldest does his chore of walking the dogs.  We have three.  He walks each dog one by one, separately, around the block.  He and his brother fight over who is going to pick up dog poop from the back yard and who is going to take out the trash.  My daughter objects to her chores of cleaning her bird cage and cleaning her room.  Her brother says, Why doesn't she have to do chores?!

I spend these times in my head, the last times I had with my kids.  These memories play over and over.    My last times with them.  Frozen at ages 11, 14 and and 16.  What are they like now?  I have no idea.  Changed.  Young adults. My daughter, 16.  No longer little children.  I can't ask other parents, What's it like?  Do your kids totally change?  Are they still the same to you as when they were children?  How would I even phrase that?  Even friends I know who I still talk to, mothers whose daughters played with my daughter--I don't know how to put into words what I wonder.  Part of me thinks it's best if I don't wonder.  Sometimes I think it would be uncomfortable for them to talk to me about it.  People don't know what to say.  And people become afraid of losing their own children.  Of even the thought.  It could happen.They knew me as a mom at home, whose life revolved around her kids.  It is possible.  It could happen.  These friends are also divorced from their husbands.  But they got primary custody. Their husbands have partial custody.  They share their children.  It didn't happen to them.

I love working with children.  And I hate it.  I love discussing children and at the same time it is the most painful thing in the world to talk about.  And I am surrounded by children every day.  It is my job.  Why?  I don't know why.  It is where I ended up.  I enjoy working with kids.  But it is a constant reminder of the loss of my own.

Mother and Daughter

I'm leaving in a few days to fly to Washington to visit my mother.  So my thoughts have been dwelling on my kids, especially my daughter.  Of course, they do anyway.  But contemplating a visit with my mom got me thinking of the relationship between a mother and daughter.  And also the circumstances of my separation.  Because within the first six months of my separation I went to stay with my mom.

Shortly after we separated, my husband stopped paying the mortgage on the house and did not put any money into our joint bank account.  He did not follow temporary court-orders to continue paying the mortgage and pay me spousal.  And my attorney told me, do not, under any circumstances, get a job. (With the assumption I would be awarded spousal support when the divorce became final, since for seventeen years I was a stay-at-home mom.)

After I had sold all my jewelry and used up my remaining credit to try to pay bills and stay fed, I panicked.  I was in fear every day, because of the unpaid mortgage bills, that cops would come knocking on the door to kick me out.  I panicked. And thinking I had no other option, I went to WA to stay with my mom.

My kids were already at their dad's after having said they wanted to live with him.   I think of how they must have felt when I went to Washington.  Abandoned, unloved, alone, afraid.  How their dad would have used that against me, "See your mom doesn't love you.  She doesn't care about you. She abandoned you. She left you and went to Washington."  Put pain and anguish and loss into their hearts.  I feel guilty thinking that by leaving I made them feel abandoned and unloved.  How much pain and loss and fear I put into their hearts.  Especially my daughter.  Only eleven years old and a mommy's girl.

I will be in WA again, soon. My sister and her family live there, too, just a few miles from my mother.  I will be there for both my niece's and my sister's birthdays.

I started thinking, when was the last time my daughter saw her cousin?  My daughter and I went to see my sister soon after she gave birth.  Just the two of us.  I have photos of my daughter holding her days-old baby cousin, cradling her carefully in her arms, beaming into the camera.  She was so excited to have a baby cousin, especially a girl cousin, being the only girl with brothers. My daughter was nine years old then.  I didn't know I had only two years left with her.

My daughter and I had driven from the Portland airport together  to her aunt's.  My sister lived in a remote part of southern Oregon.  It was about a five hour drive.  My daughter brought her enormous stuffed horse with her on the trip.  My sister had five horses that my daughter loved and got to ride when we visited.  My daughter's stuffed horse's name was Coco and she was a Bay.  On our long drive back to the airport, Coco became a TV newscaster horse.  She talked about all kinds of things as a TV newscaster.  She was also a weather reporter, and an interviewer, and she interviewed both my daughter and I.  This was the entertainment for much of our five hour drive.  My daughter as Coco was very engaging, funny and quirky.  We laughed and laughed.

During the time at my sister's, my daughter and I had gone to a nearby lake.  We brought a raft boat with oars, and a picnic lunch.  My daughter refused to help oar and instead demanded that I get us around to different parts of the lake.  So  I oared and if I wasn't going as fast as she ordered, I would get into the lake and push the boat kicking my feet wildly.  She enjoyed getting mommy to do her bidding.  On shore we feed bread to the ducks.  A large flock of happily quacking ducks gathered at our feet, but then geese came and scared the ducks away.   My daughter didn't want to give the mean geese any food.  I didn't either.  So we began throwing rocks into the lake as if they were bread, and giggled deviously as the geese dove down to get the 'food.'  My oldest son would have said that was not nice, and not respecting the geese's feelings.  But my daughter and I found it most humorous to trick the geese.

I found a bracelet she made for me today while starting to pack for my trip.  I know where all the things are that she made for me, but I try not to look at them because it always makes me cry.  She made the bracelet from a jewlery kit.  It is a black band, like a watch strap, and on it silver letters spell "MOM" with a heart on each side.

http://www.squidoo.com/parent-alienation-syndrome-PAS#module124801321

What Causes Parent Alienation?

Parent who alienate have serious unresolved personal issues.

"What causes a parent to want to damage the relationship of their own child with the other parent at their own child's expense? Intentions differ from one parent to the next, but psychologists have suggested the following as potential motivators:

* An alienating parent may have unresolved anger toward the other parent for perceived wrongs during the relationship and may be unable to separate those issues from parenting issues.
* An alienating parent may have unresolved issues from their childhood, particularly in how they related to their own parents, which he or she projects onto the other parent (whether or not it's factually accurate).
* An alienating parent may have a personality disorder, such as narcissism or paranoia, which makes him or her unable to empathize with the child's feelings or see the way their behavior is harming the child. Such personality disorders may also make the alienating parent more likely to be jealous of the other parent's adjustment to the breakup and cause the alienating parent to have extreme rage toward the other parent.
* An alienating parent may be so insecure as to his or her own parenting skills that he or she projects those concerns onto the other parent, regardless of reality.
* An alienating parent may be so wrapped up in their child's life that he or she has no separate identity and sees the child's relationship with the other parent as a threat.
* Sometimes new spouses or grandparents push the alienating parent into inappropriate behavior for their own inappropriate reasons, and the alienating parent isn't strong enough to resist them."

SOURCE: Lawyers.com
http://family-law.lawyers.com/visitation-rights/Parental-Alienation-Syndrome.html

"Children do not naturally lose interest in and become distant from their nonresidential parent simply by virtue of the absence of that parent. Also, healthy and established parental relationships do not erode naturally of their own accord. They must be attacked."
-- Michael Bone and Michael Walsh, Florida Bar Journal, March 1999http://www.squidoo.com/parent-alienation-syndrome-PAS#module124782311

 I tell my husband stories about my kids constantly. They are happy, funny stories to me. Then I get sad. My husband says the memories keep my kids alive for me. He also says that I think if I am in pain I am maintaining a connection with them. I discount that comment a bit. He may be right. But this is a man who has never had children. How can you explain to someone who has never had kids that the umbilical cord is never fully cut?

The stories I tell him about my daughter I have told over and over. There is the story about how she named her kitten, Meow, when she was two years old, because, well, it said, "Meow." And how she named her parakeet, Chirp, (she was older when she got her bird) for the same reason. And that she named her puppy, Berlioz, after the kitten in the Aristocats. And her next parakeet, Leonard, she named after the barn kitty she loved at my dad's. And how she brought a baby chick home from school. A mom  brought a box of baby chicks to school after Easter to give away (and no, we did not live in the country.) 


I tell my husband how she named her chicken Drew, after the actress Drew Barrymore, and how she kept Drew in a box in her bedroom. How Drew as a chick, would ride around on her shoulder, and eat risotto out of a bowl at the dining room table. Soon Drew got big and moved into the garage. Then we noticed she was growing bright green tail feathers that seemed a bit colorful for an ordinary chicken.  Not that we knew much about chickens. And a large red comb on the top of her head. And started going cock-a doodle-do early in the morning. So my daughter's chick named Drew grew up to be a rooster. Unfortunately, in the suburbs they frown on roosters crowing in the morning. So the rooster my daughter named after Drew Barrymore had to go live on a farm.

We had many more animals because of my daughter and her love of them.  And one of my favorite stories is of my daughter naming her cat, Meow, and her bird, Chirp, and her dog after a cat, and her bird after a cat, and her rooster after an actress.

And who else am I going to tell the stories to?  If I was with my daughter we would probably tell each other.  When I was married to my ex-husband we would reminisce together over each stage of our children's lives. And when you are together as a family you have shared memories. 


Now I tell my husband.  Who has never had children.  He laughs.  He listens patiently.  He doesn't like to see me cry.  But he doesn't understand how my children grew in my womb and the roots are still there.