Is it still Mother's Day without my child?

Hands down, this holiday was the hardest of days for me to endure while alienated from my daughters. 

It took significant effort just to breathe. For moms missing their children, Mother's Day delivers unbearable cruelty.

Perhaps, you may be fortunate enough to have a few awkward, stiff moments with your child. Perhaps, there may simply be a silent, cavernous void -- no call, no visit, no contact at all. Perhaps, you may even witness a replacement figure enthusiastically celebrated in your place on social media.

This lovely, spring day meant to bestow honor and joy can become viciously excruciating and humiliating in a highly public manner for an alienated mother. It would be irresponsible of me to sugarcoat or minimize this agony.

If you are an alienated mother, I urge you to make a survival plan ahead of time -- STAT. 

Your most important task is getting through the holiday weekend, safe and sound. You CAN do this.

Find a quiet space or a safe person and plan out what you need to cope.

If you need to surround yourself with supportive people, reach out to them now. If you need to be alone and cry all day, cancel all activities and stock up on tissues. Go for a long drive or head out of town. Sit in a movie theatre all day. Climb a mountain. 

Do whatever will help you move through your pain to get to the next day.

Just be sure to select a strategy that doesn't move you backwards. Steer clear of overspending, risky substance use, dangerous situations, or making major or permanent decisions of any kind. 

You want to shelter in place, not lose ground or jeopardize the possibility of reconnecting with your child. Above all, do not punish yourself, internally or otherwise.

You may be stripped of your parenting role at this moment, but you are -- and will always be -- a  mother. 

Right now, being a good, strong mom means preserving your own well being so you can be there for your child in the future.

Know that you will be in my heart especially on this day.

How Endurance Can Lead to Overwhelm

Yesterday, I lost my sh*t. 

As in, full melt-down mode, reminiscent of my ol' days of alienation. Right up there with what I described in my previous article The Art of  Falling Apart.

Before I continue, I want to be clear that my intent is NOT to compare my current drama with being unable to see my kids. There simply is no comparison to that agony. 

My intent is to discuss the dynamics of sheer overwhelm, especially when it involves factors beyond your control, like with alienation. 

Alienated parents are frequently among the most diligent, hard-working people and are driven to tirelessly search for solutions, resist complaining, and push through the pain. There can be moments when this dedication alone simply isn't enough, and this "failure" to hold it all together can be immensely distressing.

Admittedly, the past few months have been challenging for me. Here are a few of the stressors that I have been dealing with:

• My dad has Alzheimer's and his condition is noticeably deteriorating, as expected.
• I've had major employment changes and launched a new business venture recently.
• I have a genetic, connective tissue disorder that causes an array of health problems that are amplified by stress. Some painful, some debilitating, some annoying. All more static to deal with.
• The holidays. No further remark needed.
• Omicron. No further remark needed.
• Ringing in the New Year with a brief, but amazingly dramatic, bout of food poisoning that caused me to miss celebrating my kid's birthday.

Oh. My Goodness. That's a lot.

But, here's the thing: I was pushing so dang hard to work through all of this, to stay positive, and to find solutions that I completely lost sight of the ENORMOUS collective weight that had accumulated on my shoulders.

I didn't want to -- perhaps could not -- face the sum total. My entire focus was on fighting the good fight, forging ahead, and keeping my chin up. I didn't allow room for just being human.

Yet, we are human. It is 100% normal to have limits.

I have little to no control over all of these factors. Sure, I can do my best to problem solve and mitigate, but I can't change these things directly. I can only navigate them and manage the impact. And, take good care of myself along the way.

I dropped the ball on that last one. I think I know why.

On an underlying level, I was -- I am -- scared. I'm scared of incrementally, tragically losing my father. I'm scared of the breath-taking risk and vulnerability of embarking into new professional territory. I'm scared of the impact of my own health issues.  

Fear has its purpose. It can help us pay attention and it can be a tremendous motivator, but only momentarily. When it does not let up, fear results in bone-deep exhaustion, skewed perspective, and anxiety.

Alienation dynamics are steeped in fear and trauma. As an alienated parent, you must have a plan to take care of yourself along the way. When the pressure mounts, intentionally increase restorative measures. 

Even simple things can make a difference, such as:

• Go outside. Fresh air and sunshine heal the body and mind and fill the soul.
• Set up a soothing environment as much as you can, paying attention to background music, lighting, and room temperature.
• Move. Physical movement increases blood flow and is known to improve mood. No need to make this overly complicated. Even stretching or taking a walk can be helpful.
• Listen to interesting or supportive podcasts. Auditory input can be a low-stress, low-effort way to plug in helpful information, distract, or improve mental outlook. Brené Brown is a current favorite of mine.
• Set a timer to check in with yourself throughout the day. Being consumed with stress can make you disconnect from basic things you need, like drinking water, breathing deeply, or eating regular meals.

Also, consider ongoing counseling if that is accessible for you. Enduring alienation is not something to bear alone, especially when it stretches out over years.

Take just a few minutes right now to evaluate whether you have been taking sufficient care of yourself lately. Close your eyes, settle, and take a few deep breaths. If you are feeling depleted, schedule some restorative actions in your day. I recommend actually putting reminder alerts in your phone.

I hope this coming year brings progress and healing to you all.

The Art of Falling Apart

Usually, I encourage you to hang in there, pace yourself, and stay in the game. So, why am I now giving advice about falling apart?

Because, you will. You will hit a wall that seems utterly insurmountable. You will run out of steam. Your heart will shatter. You will have moments when you can't help but melt into a sobbing puddle. These things will happen more than once, and likely without much warning.

Parental alienation feels like your child is being kidnapped in maddening, unrelenting increments that no one else seems to comprehend. The situation is entirely unnatural, traumatic and inhuman. It is lonely and isolating. It isn't fair to expect of anyone. Nevertheless, you need to cope through it.

So, it's okay to fall apart. In fact, I want you to prepare for it. I just don't want you to STAY there.

I was well into my alienation phase and had learned to keep plodding along and functioning at life reasonably well. On this particular day, I had a busy morning of errands and working out at the gym, followed by attending a baby shower for a family member in the afternoon. The gift was wrapped, I put on a cute outfit, and I was ready to go.

Until, I wasn't. 

Just as soon as I buckled up into my car, I lost it. Completely. I sat in my garage, unable to move as disturbingly guttural howls poured from my body, and my eyes swelled with a river of tears. I felt nauseous, and I gasped for breath. I had landed firmly on the "Do not pass go" square. Needless to say, I didn't make it to the party.

Since we know they will happen anyhow, let's own those inevitable moments of disaster. Here are my top ten tips on embracing the art of falling apart.

1. Realize that you will lose it once in a while, despite your best intentions. This doesn't mean you are broken. Get comfortable with this idea, even if you don't like it.

2. Plan ahead for freak-out activities. You laugh now, but it works wonders. Make sure you have the good, extra-soft tissues. Buy some ugly dishes from a yard sale, so you can smash them in the privacy of your own garage when you need to. Get boxing gloves and hang a heavy bag. Make a melt-down music playlist. Whatever appeals to you. The idea is to release, not squelch.

3. If you have housemates, warn them. Explain how they can be supportive of your low moments.

4. Learn to recognize the oncoming feeling. Does your anxiety rise? Do you start to feel scattered or have trouble making decisions? Are there triggers that tend to set you off? Do you get more easily annoyed or irritable?

5. When you feel like you might fall apart, get to a safe, judgment-free environment as soon as possible. Cancel or reschedule commitments and make some time to not function for a while.

6. Set limits for yourself right away. Your goal is to grieve and blow off steam, not create more problems for yourself. Give yourself an end time that doesn't interfere with your daily life commitments. Set a timer or ask a friend to check on you.

I actually did this. While leaving my daughter's ballet performance, I realized that I had no idea when I would see her again, on stage or otherwise. I could barely hold it together until I got home, but I made a deal with myself along the way. I gave myself permission to lose my marbles until 10:00 pm, because I had to be ready to function at work the next morning. I collapsed just as soon as I crossed my threshold and blubbered until the timer went off.

7. In advance, make an agreement with yourself that you will NOT engage in harmful behaviors while you fall apart. Don't destroy valuables, important documents, photos or other irreplaceable items. Don't break the law or drive your vehicle while under the influence or upset. Avoid alcohol and other substances. Instead, use those pre-planned, freak-out activities from tip #2.

8. Take any preventative measures you need to. Put away your car keys, lock the liquor cabinet, turn off your phone -- do NOT text your ex! Enlist a trusted friend to help with this, if necessary.

9. Lean into it. If you're going lose it, you might as well do it with gusto. I know this seems silly while you are calm, but it's important to really express and let go of your agony when it builds up.

10. Most importantly, don't criticize or punish yourself for falling apart, during or afterwards. Accept it as part of coping through an incredibly challenging situation so you can continue to reach out to your child.