Staying power ended up being a critical consideration for me when I found myself in the thick of parental alienation. I was exhausted, discouraged, and my resources were depleted.
I had tried legal assistance, mediation, and various types of counseling (all expensive ventures). I was paying copious amounts of child support each month, yet had zero interaction with my two teenage daughters.
I was also operating in a severe emotional deficit. Repeatedly reaching out into the dark only to be met with rejection bruises the soul. And, yet, I could not, would not ever stop. My rejectors were my own children, and this situation was not of their choosing.
To say I was exhausted is an understatement, and my go-to coping activities (hiking, racquetball or cardio kickboxing, with a yoga chaser) weren't working enough anymore. My cousin Cheryl, an avid runner, helped me see that I had passed the "sprint" phase of my plight and was now in a marathon. I needed to adjust my pace for the long run.
Keeping the door cracked open with your child during alienation, to whatever tiny degree is possible, is essential for the possibility of reconnecting one day. Your effort makes you that much more accessible when their "light bulb" moment of realization happens, and they are ready to consider that you may not be the enemy. Attempts at contact, even if each gesture is rebuffed, are counter-evidence demonstrating that you are NOT an evil monster who doesn't care.
At one point, I was so entirely cut out of my daughters' lives that my only source of information about them was the grapevine -- random comments, screenshots and updates via friends who still had some level of contact with my kids and were brave enough to share a few details with me.
This is how I learned my older daughter Emily graduated a year early from high school. While I was leaving my office one evening, I received a text from a friend who had seen Emily's graduation mentioned on Facebook. The news stopped me in my tracks. Being left out of this landmark moment brought tears to my eyes, much to the awkward dismay of a young coworker who immediately regretted asking if I was okay.
I was fairly certain that my daughters were still receiving my texts, although many months had gone by without any sort of response at that point. My texts had admittedly become pathetic, between my lack of knowledge about what was happening in their lives and a massive communication black hole. I was also keenly aware that everything I did was "wrong" and used to campaign against me. Stretches of unanswered "I love you" messages seemed desperate, so I interspersed them with remarks about the weather and current events.
It sounds a bit ridiculous to someone who hasn't experienced alienation, but I began to notice that the simple act of sending a one-sided text -- which had become hugely important to maintain -- had developed a weighty emotional price for me. To set a pace that I could maintain for the long haul, I had to mindfully observe what frequency of black-hole texts I could send without feeling overly defeated and risk losing momentum.
If you are experiencing parental alienation, start evaluating your efforts and whether you are able to continue them over a long period of time. Financial considerations are important, but don't underestimate less tangible resources, like time, energy, and emotional stability. Your goal is long-term staying power, setting a pace that you can maintain for an undetermined length of time.
Hang in there. If you have questions for me or suggestions for related topics that you'd like me to address, send me a message.
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