Category: Blog Posts

“I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing women, then I don’t even know.”
~ Excerpt from Gloria’s monologue in the Barbie movie (2023)

For mothers who are targeted for parental alienation.

Any parent, male or female who is a target of parental alienation carries an enormous burden, usually for the rest of their lives. However, in this column I want to describe the unique hardship imposed on women who are victims of this form of cruel abuse.

There is something insidious about going after a mother with nothing more to target her than that she is a woman. When I saw the Barbie movie I was reminded of this harsh fact and how it played out in my life. As Gloria says,

“It is literally impossible to be a woman. . . You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.”

Gloria’s words proved to be true for me time and time again for many years and resulted in the loss of my children. I remember the day I sat in Judge John Nichols’ courtroom, once again defending myself against frivolous accusations by neighbors that my ex-spouse encouraged to sue and harass me. Fortunately for me the judge was able to see through the craziness and found in my favor. But he turned to me after making his ruling and said something chilling.

“Dr. Marshack, I am warning you. You are a target. Make sure you protect yourself at all times.”

I was stunned, but I knew that he knew I was in danger. I only wish I had known how to protect myself better. How do you protect yourself (and your daughters) when the accusations are nothing more than that you are failing to meet some womanly standards established by others? To this day the best Howard can do is complain that I am “just too much,” whatever that means.

In the following pages I will describe to you what I went through, and still endure emotionally, as the target of parental alienation by my former spouse, Howard Marshack. It’s taken me a long time to understand what I went through. If you are in this situation I want you to know how to better care for yourself than I did. You may not be able to stop the abuser, but you certainly can have a better handle on how to deal with this type of family destruction — and hopefully find a way to carry on your life.

I escaped without my children.

Probably the most important step to date, toward real healing for me is to let go of protecting my daughters. This may seem counter-intuitive, but if you think about the role of a mother it makes sense. If I don’t let them go — to discover who they are, outside of my immense shadow — then they will forever by trapped by their one-sided anger/terror. My role as a mother of grown daughters is clear.

My daughters are grown women in their thirties, roughly the ages that I became a mother, first to Bianca and three years later to Phoebe. If they are ever going to heal from the parental alienation that their father started twenty years ago, they need to face their complicity in this family tragedy. Continuing to reinforce the fiction that I am somehow to blame for everything that has gone wrong in their lives — or that I am a heinous mother to be avoided at all costs — is not just ludicrous but damaging to everyone in our family — even those who have yet to be born. My daughters need to step up and take on the problem without me covering for them any longer — or they will never know they can be strong, capable, forgiving women.

Parental alienation is a trauma for all involved, even the abuser. Howard has handicapped his own personal and spiritual development by destroying the relationship between his daughters and their mother. He has made it impossible for our girls to be at peace with their lives, forcing them to choose him and his irrational belief system over what they surely know to be the truth. Good grief, Phoebe is a mother herself. Is this how she wants her own children to behave?

Furthermore, Howard has set up his current wife, Susan, to support the alienation in order to justify their marriage. How does she explain to her children and her grandchildren that destroying a mother is the way to handle divorce? Poor Susan, she even went so far as to file an annulment petition with her church (Catholic) demanding an annulment for Howard on the grounds that I am a diagnosed mentally unfit parent. Absurd.

It really is time for me to stop protecting my daughters. I do understand how they got manipulated and dragged into Howard’s horrifying game. They were just teenagers when he started his vendetta. I was terrified when they were younger because I couldn’t figure out how to protect them. But I was simply no match for the narcissism of my ex-husband. He spread malicious lies. He enlisted the aid of powerful people (Vancouver City Attorneys, the Mayor’s office, the owner of the local newspaper, the Chief of Police). He even encouraged neighbors to come after me (see the libelous photo for which this HOA paid me $25,000 in damages).

He complained to my professional licensing boards. He even went so far as to spread lies among family members. He strangled me financially because he refused to pay for the girl’s care (especially painful since Bianca is autistic). I was dancing as fast as I could to protect us, but always on the defensive and terrified — so I wore down.

I made plenty of mistakes during this time, as you can imagine. Almost everything I tried to do was used against me. Howard rejected my offers of therapy for the children, and reconciliation services for all of us. But my biggest mistake was to feel guilty for what was going on. I suppose that is a mother’s mistake. I kept thinking that our problems could be fixed if I just tried harder. I cried. I pleaded with Howard to stop the abuse. I asked the Courts and the police for protection. I implored my father-in-law to help protect his grandchildren. All that happened is that Howard ratcheted up the alienation.

I got deeper in debt as I attempted to protect us and keep our lives on an even keel. It took almost a decade and a half and over half a million dollars to escape the abuse. I did escape, but not with my children. By then they fully embraced the alienation.

Don’t ask why or how parental alienation happens.

So how does something like parental alienation take hold, when there is not a shred of evidence against the targeted parent? This is probably the wrong question. The reality is that people believe lies and there are lots of folks out there to help spread malicious gossip. For example, one time when Phoebe was on the run (and refusing to answer my phone calls and texts), I called everyone I could think of looking for her. I called her boyfriend’s house numerous times, but no one called back. After several panicky days, I messaged Joyce Glaser, the boyfriend’s mother. She hadn’t responded before but this time she answered me on Facebook Messenger. She confirmed that Phoebe was staying at her house with her son Jared Glaser. I pleaded with Joyce to have Phoebe contact me but she refused. She said, “I always knew you were a horrid person, so why should I help you?” I hardly knew Joyce, but apparently it suited her purpose to despise me.

There may be other people who aren’t so quick to judge you, but most people don’t want to really dig into the situation. Over and over again I got the message from “friends” that they “didn’t want to take sides.” How do I protect my family, as Judge Nichols suggested, when no one wanted to step up and help?

The harsh truth, as Gloria says in her Barbie monologue “. . . never forget that the system is rigged.” Howard was able to make me look bad to my daughters for a variety of complex reasons. The fact that I worked night and day to pay the bills cut into our time together as mother and daughters. The fact that I was inundated by a barrage of lawsuits that cost my energy and finances meant that it looked like I was the problem. The fact that he successfully had me arrested three times, all on frivolous charges which were later dismissed, but still made me look like I was a criminal in the eyes of my girls. The fact that I cried every night, into the wee hours of the morning, made me look emotionally unstable.

By the way Howard is a divorce attorney, so he also had a specialized knowledge of how to undermine people. He pulled out all the stops to take me down. Never once did he consider he was targeting his children too. They didn’t stand a chance to feel safe in that environment.

So, no it is not helpful to understand why people do these things or even how they will do it. The frightening reality is that if you are targeted by an unscrupulous narcissist you will inevitably be harmed — and you will be harmed mightily. You are simply no match for these malevolent people.

Step out of your fear and soar.

What you can do however, is to step out of your fear. Whether you are in the middle of being targeted, or it has passed and you have lost, fear is your enemy. If you are fearful, it is understandable, but if you show your fear you will lose more. As much as you want to acknowledge your fear, because it feels honest to do so, save it for your therapist or a really good friend who won’t be intimidated. But the reality is that human beings are animals and no animal likes the smell of fear. It frightens them too — and they react accordingly.

What do frightened animals do? Think about it. Even your dearest friend will turn on you if you show fear. And there is no doubt that the narcissist will revel in your fear and use it to harm you. As painful as it may seem, keep the fear to yourself and fight your battles smartly.

The ability to handle fear properly is the key to surviving the attacks of a narcissist, especially the pernicious attacker who targets a mother. You may not fear as much for yourself as you do your children. I know that fear and it is frightening to know that you can do nothing to help your child cope with an aggressive and abusive co-parent.

The best way to manage your fear is through mind calming therapies and God. Meditation or prayer steadies you. Knowing that there is a power greater than yourself that loves you and your children is a huge relief. You may still have to walk the path alone of being a targeted parent, but if you feel the presence of a powerful, all loving presence, it feels like you can do it.

I was reading about a young woman who was trapped in a bunker by the side of the road, where she and other Israelis had taken refuge from the Hamas terrorists, during the early hours of the war between Hamas and Israel (2023). Facing certain death, the small group began chanting a Hebrew prayer together. The young woman reported feeling like she left her body and came to be comforted by a loving presence. She heard and felt nothing, until she returned to her body. Then she saw the orange dust floating around her. She smelled the blood of the dead. The Hamas killers were gone, along with her boyfriend whom they kidnapped — but she had survived miraculously.

I felt this same peace when I was in the Clark County jail. I felt this peace when I was handcuffed and ankle chained to other prisoners and led to the courtroom for arraignment. I felt it again when I had to face trial on false charges. I know it seems odd but the fear left me for a time when I prayed and asked to be protected. It was obvious that I was outnumbered by the forces opposing me — but I felt comforted and safe just the same.

[Just to be clear, I have no criminal record. Any charges brought against me were dismissed. I won nearly every civil matter too. The only time I had to pay a fine is when I installed speed bumps in front of my house to prevent my neighbors from swerving across my lawn and frightening my daughter and our dog. I asked Judge Nichols if the fines collected against my neighbors ($5000), as well as mine could be donated to the SW Washington Autism Society, in recognition of the terrorizing my neighbors had leveled against my autistic daughter Bianca. He agreed.]

Be a proud mother.

What Gloria shows us is that being a mother is the greatest gift we can give our children — even in absentia. Be proud of your mothering, whether a target of alienation or not. Standing up against oppression, with a feminist spirit, and losing to the alienator is no shame. It is a demonstration of the power of your mothering to be there for your children no matter what.

At the end of the Barbie movie, Gloria asks the CEO of Mattel to create a doll that is just an ordinary woman with all of the quirks and flaws that make her human. At first the executive declines until someone mentions that the “ordinary Barbie” would be profitable. Why is that do you think? Do we need more women like Gloria who confronted her fears and fought for her daughter and rescued Barbie from her shame and rebuilt the Sisterhood of Barbie World— and discovered a new life of feminist joy?

One of the toughest things for me to get over is that my daughters caved to the oppression of their father’s alienation and ignored the strength in the Sisterhood. I taught them about the power of feminism to heal by bringing us all together (female and male). This principle infuses my work and life to this day. I pray that they wake up and once again rediscover that power. They deserve to have a better life. But they will have to earn it just as I have.

Yes it is time for me to let my grown daughters go, but deep in my mother’s heart, where I will love them forever, I hope Bianca and Phoebe know that I believe in them, just as Gloria believed in Barbie.

“Peace requires us to surrender our illusions of control”
~ Jack Kornfield

Hope for the best, but plan for the worst.

When I worry about the fate of the human race (and who doesn’t?), I remind myself of the lessons I have learned from my dog Kokomo. In Kokomo’s world, extremes of any kind are not relevant. He prefers the Middle Way. This philosophy has served both of us very well, especially me, since I have a tendency to ride the roller coaster of life from the heights of joy to the depths of despair. Through Kokomo’s teachings, I have learned to be more moderate in the demands I make upon myself, and others.

We humans have made a mess of things in so many ways, but we have also made incredible contributions too. There is art and architecture, literature and religion. We are exploring the galaxy and beyond. We have cured polio and created marvelous life-saving medicines for many other maladies. I just installed solar panels on my roof and ride an e-bike to cut back on my carbon footprint.

I could regale you with all that is wrong in the world, but you already know that stuff, and probably worry about it too. Looking at what’s wrong is not the solution anyway. I also think it is not terribly helpful to only look at what’s right in the world, like some Pollyanna. Solutions require looking at the bad and the good. My personal motto is “Hope for the best, but plan for the worst.” I think Kokomo would agree.

Kokomo’s Middle Way of Peace.

My motto may seem incongruous for the Buddhist philosophy of the “Middle Way,” but let me show you the “Middle Way,” through the eyes of my Golden Retriever (English Cream) Kokomo.

Lesson 1 – Be authentic.

My first lesson came when I adopted Kokomo, when he was six years old. He had just left the puppy mill, where he had one job . . . stud. Yes, he is a very good-looking dog. Everyone tells me so. People also give me credit for his sweet temperament and cooperative nature, but I always explain that this is just how he is. At age six when adopted, I can hardly be responsible for his personality. He was a stud on the farm because he has all of these desirable qualities inside and out. I like to think that coming to live with me may enhance these qualities, but then I am probably being egocentric. Rather Kokomo is the one who helped me find a way to calm my nervous energy by accepting who I am. Not everyone can be beautiful and smart like Kokomo, but we all have our gifts – and purpose.

Lesson 2 – Choose your friends wisely.

Being true to yourself is all well and good, but we also need to be surrounded by folks we get along well with, who are respectful, and love us beyond measure. There are very few people that Kokomo takes to right away. I think this is wise, don’t you? Why trust people just because they offer you a treat or a scratch behind your ears? I have learned to choose my friends wisely so that I don’t get drained by people who are just out of synch with themselves.

As for his favorite peeps, his pace quickens when he sees other dogs on our daily walks. But not just any dogs. He really can’t stand little dogs, especially those who have high pitched yips – and their Moms have them dressed in colorful baby clothes (so undignified). He pulls me in the other direction if he senses one of those encounters. On the other hand, he much prefers dogs of his size and temperament – unless they are aggressive or mean. When dogs bound up to him, eager to play, he stands very still – until both dogs have passed the sniff test. If they pass he happily races around us humans with his new “forever best friend.”

Lesson 3 – Don’t give bullies the time of day.

Kokomo has been attacked a couple of times on our walks. It really shocked me because each time he was just trotting along, sniffing his way along the path, stopping to examine a pine cone or bury his nose in a pile of leaves. Out of nowhere he was charged by a dog who attacked with such fierceness that most dog owners would expect a “dog fight.” Not Kokomo though. He falls to the ground with the first head butt, and lays there motionless. I have learned to step in, scream at the other dog (and sometimes the owner) and often I have to kick the offending dog — who then scuttles away.

The first time Kokomo was attacked, I was worried he had been injured and that he would be shaken emotionally. Nope. Once I kicked the offending dog, Kokomo got up off the ground and stood by unfazed – out of reach of the nasty dog – waiting for us to continue our walk.

Does he know that bullies want a fight, and that if you don’t fight back they cave? Or perhaps he figures I am his protector so he can relax and not worry? Or does he just accept that if you are a “stud” you might bring out the envy in other dogs – like it’s the price he pays to be the beautiful dog he is?

This is a darned good lesson for me. If I am going to be true to myself, take on my responsibilities, and live out my mission — I need to be brave enough to face the bullies but not fight back. Never give a bully the time of day, not one little bit of satisfaction for their attacks.

Lesson 4 – Don’t rush into anything.

If Kokomo determines that things just don’t feel right, or sound right, or look right, or smell right, I can’t get him to budge. He plants his little paws so firmly that I would have to pick up his full 62 pounds and carry him. What’s the fun in that, for either of us? I have learned to let him have his way when he feels this strongly about something. Who am I to contradict how he feels?

This is one of those complex lessons isn’t it? This lesson requires being respectful of the other person even when you can’t understand what’s going on with them. They have their reasons and that’s good enough. As for me, I have my reasons too and don’t need to explain them to anyone. I could be wrong, but if I don’t get the go ahead from my own inner knowing — I have learned to take my time.

Lesson 5 – Be charming and persistent.

My grandfather used to say “You get a lot more with honey, than you will with vinegar.” Watch this 30 second video of Kokomo and tell me if he doesn’t exude this principle. He is exceedingly charming, and just as exceedingly persistent toward accomplishing his goal of getting me to go for a walk.

But there’s more than just being charming or persistent here. Kokomo and I are a team. We belong to each other. We trust each other. We share the walk. He delights me with his cheerful doggy antics as we walk the neighborhood, or the beach. He accepts the limitations that I impose such as when he reaches the end of his 24-foot retractable leash. He stops and waits for me to signal that he can go on again. He waits patiently when I stop to talk to humans along the way. At the end of a long day, when my work is done, and dinner is cleared from the table – and we have had our evening stroll, Kokomo contentedly snuggles me while I read or watch TV. Charming.

Give up the illusion of control.

There are many more lessons I have learned from Kokomo over the last two years he has shared my life with me, but underlying all of them is to fully recognize that the only way to a peaceful life is give up the illusion of control. If you want to have abundant love and peace you don’t need that illusion anyway. All you need is to be:

• Authentically you,
• Surrounded by trusted friends,
• Quietly ignoring bullies,
• Respectful of your inner knowing, and others,’
• Charmingly persistent toward your goals.

“Think lightly of yourself and deeply of the world.”
~ Miyamoto Musashi, Samurai Warrior

Mash up of memories.

For many of you, the “holiday” season is not easy. For me neither. While those around us are planning a party, or a festive meal with all of the trimmings — or placing carefully wrapped presents under the tree, or taking the grandkids to a candlelight service — or singing Christmas carols in the car on their way to do last minute Christmas shopping — there are those of us who struggle with life’s tragedies — alone.

Unlike other proud grandmothers, when people ask me if I have grandchildren, I say “Yes,” but don’t elaborate. Nor do I pull out pictures to show the kind questioner. I have none. When people ask me if I am having a big crowd for Christmas, I say “No,” and leave it at that. When they ask me if I have finished my Christmas shopping, “ I say “Yes,” without any pride in the accomplishment, since I have no family for which to buy presents. After my blunt answers, they never ask more.

I still engage in a bit of holiday cheer though. Not like I used to when I could share the season with my children and grandson. I hang some decorations and light up my ceramic Christmas tree. This year I hosted a Chanukah party because I love this festival of the lights and it reminds me of our Christian/Jewish home that I once shared with my daughters and my ex-husband Howard. Yes, I listen to holiday music too. It’s not the same, but it helps me get through this sad time.

Memories also help me get through my tears. I remember my children when they were young and they delighted in the season. For example, years ago my daughter Phoebe was very excited to help out at her Montessori school, in preparation for the Christian worship. She was attending preschool at Aquinas Montessori in Camas Washington, which was housed on a Catholic campus. The children were taken to a room where they could polish the brass candelabras that would be used for Christmas. When she got home that day, she was filled with excitement. I asked her what made her so happy and she proudly exclaimed “Oh Mommy! I got to polish the Menorah!”

On another Christmas we attended a candlelight service at Unity Church in Vancouver, Washington. Reverent Bernadette looked beautiful in her red suit and long dark hair. As she shared her thoughts with us about the Christmas story, I felt the “presence.” When it was time to go to the front of the sanctuary to take our lighted candles and place them in the sand tray, the organist played “Silent Night” and I again felt the loving “presence” in my heart. I was carrying baby Phoebe on my hip, with her older sister Bianca by my side. After placing my candle in the sand tray, I waited for Bianca to join me — but I felt her disappear for a moment.

Behind me I heard Reverend Bernadette announce that the congregation would be honored by an impromptu solo by a young singer whose “. . .name is Bianca.” I turned around in astonishment as I heard Bianca sing “Silent Night” . . . in Japanese! My sweet autistic child was learning Japanese phrases at her preschool, and apparently had fully memorized this traditional Christmas Eve song.

The worried look on my face caught Rev. Bernadette’s eye, and she confidently waved me to my seat, so I moved on leaving Bianca on the stage. I sat and cried tears of joy, as I listened to my darling little girl. She was innocent then and filled with the spirit of the “presence.” The entire congregation was mesmerized too. At that moment, the Holy Spirit flowed through all of us.

I won’t ever totally heal from the parental alienation that my ex-spouse Howard and his wife Susan put me through. The hardest part has always been my guilt that I could not protect my daughters from Howard’s cruelty. However, with each passing year I am stronger and wiser — and have more to offer others who suffer. I know that I haven’t lived through this abuse to be nothing more than a victim or a survivor. I know I am more because God loves me and wants me to let others know that to do to protect themselves and their children.

In fact, I was speaking to one of my clients a couple of days ago who is facing something similar with her ASD spouse, from whom she is separated. She is terrified that her children will never recover from his alienating efforts. I gave her comfort and some tips on strategy. I learned the hard way that to do battle with a narcissist (who is hell-bent on destroying you), requires more than being tough. You must learn to be wily and strategic — yet always take the high road.

As we talked and she calmed down, she was comforted to know that she would not have to face parental alienation alone as I had. After our conversation she sent me this sweet text:

Thank you so much. There is a special place in heaven for people like you. ❤️

The New York Times helps me grieve.

I start almost every day reading the online version of the New York Times. It helps me with my personal grief, to read about tragedies around the world. Climate change, Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, another mass shooting, the attack by Hamas on the Israeli kibbutzim near Gaza.

Does this sound odd to you? Not to me. My life is exceptionally blessed in comparison. I may never see my children or even know my grandchildren, but I live safely in an Oregon beach town. I have a beautiful home with an ocean view. I have plenty to eat, and work that fulfills me. I have invigorating walks with my dog Kokomo. Pampering my elderly kitty Trinity, and playing with her streetwise kitty sister Seven of Nine, give me a chance to “mother” my loved ones. Every day I count my blessings and thank the Lord for providing for me.

As I opened the email prompt from the New York Times this morning (December 23, 2023), and scrolled past the headlines, my eyes dropped to two articles that were listed as “Editor’s Picks.” I wasn’t emotionally ready for the first one, The Day Hamas Came¹. So I started with the other one, The Joy of Communal Girlhood, the Anguish of Teenage Girls².

Now I know what you are thinking. Both pieces are pretty intense for a holiday weekend, but for me these news stories inspire me to be a better person — to do all that I can and a bit more to make the world a better place.

I cried through the whole piece on girlhood. My choice to start with my personal loss reflects where my heart is at Christmas — with my daughters Bianca and Phoebe — who lost their girlhood through our divorce and the malevolence of their father’s parental alienation. As this “Year of the Girl” draws to a close I hope they are infused by the feminist spirit of the “Barbie” movie, and Beyoncé, and Taylor Swift – Times Person of the Year. As grown women, now in their 30s, I pray my girls listen to their unconscious memories of the mother who loved them and loves them still. It’s a mother’s love that can carry girls past those troubles of girlhood like the mother did in the “Barbie” movie. Unfortunately, Hollywood makes it look easy, but I haven’t given up.

It was a good place to start my morning reading — with my mother’s heartbreak — and to know that I will survive. The tears made it easier to read the next piece, “The Day Hamas Came.” Why was it easier? Because when you are devastated by irrational hatred for no reason — other than that you exist — which is the only explanation for Howard’s destruction of our family — I have a kind of resilience for the stories of others who are devastated by monstrous hatred.

I am not saying it was easy to read this second NYT piece. I watched the village surveillance footage showing Hamas terrorists storming the kibbutz, gunning down young people, throwing grenades into homes to burn families alive.

I was brought into the last moments of the lives of those who perished in the village of Be’eri on October 7th, as I read their anguished texts.

I read about a Jewish woman who had often helped her Palestinian neighbors by escorting them to medical facilities in Israel. During the siege she kept several neighbors safe in her home — until the Hamas terrorists exacted their horrific toll.

I read the texts of a social worker who was trapped in her burning “safe room” with her husband and sons. She made the decision to leave certain death from the fire to escape to the garden and try to hide beneath some trees. She even posted pictures of her last moments — before she and her family were shot to death.

It’s not that these horrors half way across the globe from me, make it easier to accept my personal sorrows. Rather, it is because of my personal sorrows that I have the courage to face what is going on in Israel, and Ukraine, and Sudan. That I am able to read a painful account of a mother’s last moments. That I can vow to do whatever I can to bring comfort to those who suffer. That maybe I might even find a way to effect peace.

The most precious Christmas story.

Perhaps because I am a mother, and a mother who has been crushed by hatred, I pay attention to stories of other mothers who are doing all they can to protect their children. For example, I loved the powerful speech of the mother in the “Barbie” movie, in which she described the impossible standards women are held to. I am sure she inspired many a mother and daughter. Hopefully her speech also softened hearts.

I was awestruck last year when First Lady Jill Biden made a secret trip on Mother’s Day to Ukraine to visit Olena Zelenska, the wife of Ukraine’s president. The two mothers met and talked and I can only assume shared stories of the hardship of motherhood under trying circumstances.

I shared texts with an American Jewish mother as she waited in the Tel Aviv airport on October 8-9. As soon as I heard about the attack, I texted her to find out if she was safe. She assured me she was and that she was getting flights for her family back home. First her husband flew out. Then her daughter and her grandchildren. This brave woman was the last to leave — not before her entire family was safe.

I don’t know much about the life of Rinat Even, the 44-year-old social worker who posted her last thoughts on social media before the Hamas terrorists murdered her and her family. Undoubtedly it took incredible courage to let the world know what was unfolding in her village, through social media, even though she and her children faced certain death. She is a hero.

Another mother has been watching over me for many years. I first met her when I was arrested and locked up in the Clark County jail during the long and torturous divorce process. I had a blazing headache and I was shivering cold as I tried to shake off the shock of what Howard was doing to our family. I was terrified for my children who were left alone at my house after I was arrested. I wrapped myself in the thin blanket I was issued when I was taken to my jail cell, and I sat there quietly waiting until I could be released. I noticed a tiny piece of paper wedged into a metal corner of a table in my cell. I worked the paper out of the corner and it turned out to be a pamphlet left by the Catholic Charities, “Mary’s Way of the Cross.”

I had many feelings that night as I read Mary’s story, the story of watching her son Jesus as he carried the cross to Calvary where he was tortured and murdered. I can’t imagine her anguish, but her courage and love are undeniable. She was a remarkable mother who guides me to this day.

Even as I tell you of these mother’s stories, I am reminded of another story about my daughter Bianca when she was only five. At school the children were given the assignment of drawing pictures that represented Christmas. The teacher collected the drawings and created bundles of Christmas cards for each parent, using the children’s art. On the day of the Christmas party at school, the children surprised their parents with a gift of the bundled cards.

I remember thanking Bianca and giving her a hug. She was very pleased to have participated in creating this special gift for her parents. As I sorted through the cards looking for Bianca’s drawing, her teacher Donna approached. She said, “I asked all of the children to draw a picture of what Christmas meant to them.”

I said, “That is so sweet. Thank you, Donna.”

Donna smiled back and continued. “Yes, the children loved this project. They all drew fantastic pictures.”

I nodded in agreement, but wondered why she was continuing to emphasize this kindergarten accomplishment.

Donna said, “So you will notice that the children drew Christmas trees, and Santa Claus, and candy canes, and colorful wrapped presents.”

“Yes,” I said, as I shuffled through the children’s drawings again.

“But” she paused and looked me in the eye. “Bianca was the only one to draw a Nativity scene.” Then she pointed to Bianca’s card.

I lost my breath for a moment, astonished that my five-year-old had such a deep understanding of Christmas. Bianca noticed my reaction. I turned and looked at her with an inquisitive expression. “Bianca, your drawing is lovely but I am curious about why you choose this picture for your Christmas card?”

In her matter-of-fact way she said, “Donna asked us to draw a picture of the meaning of Christmas Mommy. And it’s when Jesus was born.” Of course, it is. Jesus’ birth is the meaning of Christmas.

The meaning of being a mother.

I became a mother when we adopted Bianca, my precious beautiful little girl. Phoebe came along three and half years later and helped me discover the joy of love again through her delightful smile. Both daughters have made my life so much richer than ever it would have been without them.

I miss them profoundly and I will never get over the loss. But I also know that my mother’s love is an important gift, even from afar. I am not perfect. It is not a mother’s perfection that children need. They need to know that even with all of her flaws and mistakes and regrets (and theirs) that they are loved beyond measure. Mothers are like that. We have hearts that are huge and go on loving forever.

It’s not being a mother per se that makes the difference is it? It’s the lessons from motherhood that make us resilient, stronger, and wiser. Never in life is anything as life altering as choosing to sacrifice for one’s children. And when a mother rises to the level of that kind of challenge, she is a powerful force for good in the world.

This is my wish for all of you for this New Year of 2024. Think deeply of the world and be a force for good in whatever way you can.

Sources and Links

1. https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2023/12/22/world/europe/beeri-massacre.html
2. https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/22/opinion/girlhood-mental-health-taylor-swift.html

“You are your best thing.” – Toni Morrison

When war breaks out, get busy.

On Saturday, October 7, 2023, I got busy. Busy is what I do when I am overwhelmed with shocking news. It is my first step – get busy and do something, anything to combat the fear.

The news that Hamas had launched an unspeakably horrific attack on Israel — killing men, women, children — families living at the border of Gaza — I burst into tears as I read the news.

But then I got busy. I texted all of my Hasidic clients, some of whom were in Israel for the holiday. I heard from all of them, even one mother who awaited evacuation of her family at the airport in Tel Aviv. Throughout the day I heard from all of them, and they reported that they were safe and holding their children and grandchildren tightly.

Next, I texted other clients and friends to make sure they were safe too — safe emotionally — safe to go through their day — knowing that another war had begun. A war that is far away from the Pacific Northwest where I live but seems like it is so personal — so close to my heart.

My personal war with parental alienation.

The past week has been a jumble of emotions and thoughts, as I process how this war is affecting me. I remain busy because it saves my sanity. I am busy taking care of my pets. Busy cleaning the house, doing laundry. Busy writing my next book. Between appointments, I am busy preparing food or reorganizing stuff. Busy helps.

But when I have a moment, I feel sad. My own personal sadness bleeds over into every news story. I think about the lives lost in Israel, and I wonder if I will ever see my own children again. I watch with amazement as government leaders struggle with what to do about this mess. Shouldn’t it be simple to do the right thing? But it’s not.

In my own personal war with parental alienation (many years ago), I fought for my daughters Bianca and Phoebe — but I lost. My ex-husband Howard came after me with a vengeance. I was besieged by law suits, and assaults, and threats to the children. He filed complaints against me every chance he could get. I worked night and day to pay the $550,000 in legal debt that mounted.

I was so off balance emotionally that it literally affected my health. I fell down the stairs more than once and occasionally broke my bones. I backed my car into utility poles and ran out of gas on the freeway. I was indeed busy with survival — and there was little time for my daughters. There were few moments when we could relax and just be there for each other.

Eventually our frightening life got the best of the girls and they both conspired with their father to disown me. After many years of sending presents and cards and emails, all unanswered, I stopped trying to reach them. They never reached back and it has been decades.

Haunted by my decisions.

I have waited year after year for my daughters to forgive me for not doing more to keep them safe. I have been haunted by the mistakes I made during those years of heartbreaking and terrifying parental alienation.

• If only I had not asked Howard for a divorce in the first place.
• If only I had understood how to assuage his anger toward me.
• If only I had let him take everything I own — just leave the children alone.
• If only I had quit working and gone into bankruptcy.
• If only I had found a decent therapist for myself and the girls.
• If only I had taken one more hour each day to be with my daughters and given them the love they wanted.
• If only…

Instead, I kept busy — fighting for all of us in the only way I knew how. After this many years I know that there may have been other ways to extricate us from the terror of Howard’s efforts. But I didn’t know what to do then except to fight back, to keep busy, and to hope my love for my daughters would be enough to sustain them through it all. It wasn’t.

“You are your best thing.”

Just this morning, a quote popped into my newsfeed, from Pulitzer Prize winning author Toni Morrison — “You are your best thing.” I didn’t recognize the quote but I was intrigued and decided to read more about what she meant.

Apparently, the quote comes from Morrison’s novel, “Beloved,” which is set in post-Civil War America. It’s the story of a mother and enslaved woman who escaped the plantation where she was held captive. The woman struggled for many years with her perceived mistakes and worries — that she had lost the “best things” in her life.¹

Eventually the former slave came to understand that she is her own best thing — that she is not defined by the role she plays in others lives. In other words, she came to know that she has inherent value regardless of the external circumstances (and people) she had to deal with.

It has taken me many years to recognize that I am my own best thing. The tragedy of Howard’s attempts to destroy the mother of his children and take the children along with his malevolent impulses — is not easy to endure. But I have endured and I have grown into a wise and beloved mentor to many.

Yes, I have battle scars and deep, unremitting grief for the children and grandchildren I may never see again. But I have some peace in knowing that I am enough — that I am whole just as I am — that doing my very best each day is a marvelous contribution to others, whether or not my children recognize my love.

Post Script.

I had a similar experience when I read the news story of First Lady Jill Biden on Mother’s Day 2022, when she quietly slipped into Ukraine to visit Olena Zelenska, the wife of the President of Ukraine Volodymyr Zelensky.

I was inspired when I read the story. I wept as I recognized the powerful gift of one mother to another. Jill Biden gifted Olena Zelenska with a bouquet of flowers on a day designated to honor our mothers for their selfless gift of love.

Zelenska was in hiding to keep her children safe during the bitter war with Russia. There are mothers in Israel doing the same.

I used to think that my love for Bianca and Phoebe wasn’t enough for them, but now I know differently. Because I love them, I am enough.

——

1. I am not saying my own story is as harrowing as the former slave in Morrison’s novel. Nor do I face the incredible hardship of war. But we all have to face hardship and the best way to do that is to embrace the lessons. And all lessons are for our good.

Parental Alienation as seen through the lens of Autism

At the risk of angering disability rights advocates I have adapted the title of this blog from a popular slogan: “Once you have met one person with Autism, you have met one person with Autism.”

The philosophy behind the original slogan is admirable. Disability rights advocates want to emphasize the importance of honoring and respecting each individual regardless of their diagnosis or disability. They caution against painting with a broad brush, the entire population of those with NeuroDiversity.

Obviously, this is an important caveat. Equally true is that the topic of parental alienation should be handled delicately. Can we say that all parental alienators are not the same? Maybe. But I maintain that parental alienation is not only child abuse but that it is a crime — regardless of the alienator’s personality or disability.

In this blog I want to describe how the NeuroDiverse mindset can cause, contribute to, and be abused/manipulated by parental alienating methods.

In this first in a series on Autism and Parental Alienation, I describe the painful awakening of an ASD adult to parental alienation efforts by his ASD father. Further, you will see how my client’s childhood is contributing to the abuse of his own young ASD son.¹

Fortunately, this client and his family make it and I will discuss their success in later blogs. For now, I want you to read the following vignette to learn the basics of how the autistic mind can be trapped by the vicious abuse of parental alienation.

Danny and La Mar: The not so simple story

In the following vignette, I introduce you to Danny (NeuroDiverse) and La Mar (NeuroTypical). They are married and came to me for guidance with their NeuroDivergent relationship. As we explored their problems, the frightening story of parental alienation surfaced.

In this vignette, Danny has only recently learned the facts surrounding his father’s alienating efforts. It is shocking and he is still reeling from the discovery that resulted in severing the ties with his mother for thirty years.

Danny squeezed back the tears in his eyes and gritted his teeth, in an effort to hold back his frustration. He said, “It’s not that! It’s not that! I get it that my father lied to me, but what does that have to do with my marriage?”

Danny’s wife La Mar has been trying to break through his denial for a long time. Of course, denial being what it is, this is no easy feat. When someone is “in denial” they don’t have a conscious awareness or objective view of the problem. It’s as if what the other person is talking about doesn’t even exist.

La Mar tried again. “Danny, you treat me just like your mother. You despise your mother so much you haven’t seen her in 30 years. We get along just fine except when you start attacking my mothering with our son, Charlie.”

Shaking his head vigorously, getting red in the face, and squeezing back more tears, Danny said, “You always bring that up. It’s just that you won’t let me parent either. You are always rescuing Charlie — from me. I’m a good father!”

“I’m not questioning that you are a good father. I am asking you to consider that your father’s lies — his parental alienation — shaped how you treat me and your son. And I want it fixed, or I want a divorce!” La Mar was just as emphatic as her husband about his distress over the topic.

At this point, I offered to help. “Danny — La Mar — let me help. In one way Danny is correct. There are two different topics and he just wants to better understand the connection La Mar is making.” People on the Spectrum like Danny do better when you take one thing at a time.

I continue, “La Mar is correct too. She knows that the trauma of parental alienation from so many years ago, is somehow connected to the present. Yes, these two topics — Danny’s childhood and Danny’s and La Mar’s marriage, have one common denominator — Danny.” I attempt to help Danny see that there are two issues but that they are related.

Both are looking at me, with a tiny inkling of light beginning to dawn in their minds. While they are thinking about the distinction I am making, let me summarize the history.

After much prodding by La Mar and encouragement from his therapist, Danny finally approached his father to find out what happened when his parents divorced. The truth was ugly.

When Danny was young, the family lived in India. Danny’s father was a professional (with an advanced degree) who decided to relocate to the United Arab Emirates (UAE) to make more money. He left his wife and three young children with her mother and was gone for two years. Although he sent money home, he made few visits back home. In the meantime, Danny’s mother suffered under the separation. She eventually had a short-lived affair.

When Danny’s father returned to India, and discovered the affair, he immediately filed for divorce. Even though Danny’s mother begged him to forgive her, he refused. Danny’s father engaged in a plan of retribution. He paid the divorce judge $100,000 to find in his favor and grant him full custody of Danny (and the other children). He encouraged Danny to believe the worst of his mother by calling her names in front of the child — such as “cheater.” To this day, Danny refers to his mother as a “cheater.”

As if this weren’t harsh enough, Danny’s father remarried almost immediately upon divorcing Danny’s mother. Then he moved the family to the USA when Danny was just age 11. He has had no contact with his mother in three decades and is even unsure of her whereabouts or if she is alive.

Even after discovering the truth about his father’s machinations, Danny struggles with accepting his own inner conflicts. For example, he describes the judicial bribe as necessary, “…since all my mother cares about is money. That’s why my father went to the UAE in the first place.” He still carries the beliefs he acquired as a child.

Back in the session with Danny and La Mar, I offer to connect the dots. Before I could start, Danny offered more defensive denial.

“Everyone knows my mother is cold and unloving. The only warmth I got was from my grandmother when I lived with them. In fact, my mother was so lazy she had a nanny.”

“Danny,” I said. “You might want to consider that there is a lot more to this story than the memories of a little boy. For example, your parents were fairly wealthy by Indian standards. They could afford a housekeeper and a nanny. In fact, isn’t that pretty standard in India?”

La Mar looked at me with surprise. “I never knew this.” La Mar is American born, so she hadn’t considered the cultural differences.

“Yes, La Mar, it is quite common for the upper classes in India to have servants. Housekeepers and gardeners and nannies all work for very low wages. Not like it is here in the USA,” I explained.

“So, Danny, is it possible that your father wanted you to believe your mother was cold and unloving — for an ulterior motive?” I asked.

Again, Danny shook his head, a bit more slowly this time. “No, No, you don’t understand,” he repeated. “She was a cheater!”

Even La Mar could detect his childish outburst. She looked at him and her eyes widened. Then she looked at me inquisitively, as she was getting a handle on the devastating parental alienation her husband had suffered. La Mar had not fully comprehended how brainwashing occurs with a child under these pressures.

I tried to be comforting as I guided Danny to consider a more mature way of looking at the problems of his parents. “Danny, I want you to consider what it might have been like for your mother to be raising you by herself — yes, even with the help of her mother and the nanny. Wealth and status provide some support, but don’t you think she may have been lonely without your father? Don’t you think she may have struggled to find resources for you too? After all she didn’t know that you (and your father) are on the Autism Spectrum.”

La Mar, Danny’s NeuroTypical wife, got it! “Bingo,” she said. La Mar looked relieved that an answer was emerging. “That’s exactly how I feel and Danny is not working thousands of miles away in the UAE. I feel like I am parenting Charlie all by myself. Both Charlie and Danny are on the Autism Spectrum, but Danny acts like this is irrelevant. And then he blames me for being fatigued and asking for his help. He calls me lazy too — just like he believes of his mother.”

Danny sat there in a puddle of tears, his head hanging down so that I couldn’t see his “shame.”

While La Mar can understand the interaction of the past and the present, I need a more transactional explanation for Danny.

I offer this solution to Danny and wait to see if he gets it. “Danny, your father decided to leave his family to make more money abroad. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never asked your mother how she felt about the decision. Then when he returned after two years, he expected to step back into his family, as if nothing had changed. When he discovered your mother’s affair, he made another solo decision to divorce. In his black and white thinking, your mother had wronged him. He took no responsibility for the marital problems. She was wrong. He was right.”

“Are you following me so far Danny?” He nodded a silent affirmation.

“OK,” I continued. “Because your father believed these things of your mother, he had no reason to keep them from you. You were only 11 when he told you she was a “cheater” and that this justified a divorce. You were only 11 years old when he expected you to abandon your home and travel with him across the world, never to see your mother again. You were only 11 when he convinced you that your mother was cold and unloving and only wanted your father for his money. You believed him, why?”

“Because she didn’t fight for me!” Danny blurted out. “My father showed me a letter from her that she didn’t have enough money to take care of me, so she agreed to let me go.”

I said, “That sounds like a letter from a mother who feels beaten down and has no resources left. She didn’t write that she stopped loving you. Sadly, she accepted that she was outmatched by your father.” It was tough going at this point. Danny still couldn’t break the denial.

La Mar broke in. “Your father hates women, Danny. You know this. You were shocked at what he has said to me and about me behind my back. Like when he called me a ‘c—.’ And you didn’t defend me or anything!”

Danny responded. “That wasn’t right. I know. But I told you not to have conversations with my father. I knew you two would tangle.”

“Danny,” I wanted to bring him back to the connection — the connection between his childhood and his marriage. “Danny, what happened to you all of those years ago when you were just a little boy — when your father paid a judge to help him get rid of your mother — when he convinced you that your mother didn’t love you because she was a ‘cheater’ — that is called parental alienation. And it is a terrible form of child abuse.”

“Wait, wait!” I admonish Danny as he tries to break in. “Your father is willing to call your wife the ‘C’ word, in front of you, just as he called your mother a ‘cheater’ right in front of you, what kind of man is he?”

“I know, I know, Dr. Marshack. I have already told my father that he is not allowed in my home again, or to speak to my wife. That he went too far with La Mar.” Danny had taken one tiny step out of denial.

I continued. “Danny, your father went too far with your mother too.” Danny looked at me with a quizzical look, but a glimmer…

“Parental alienation destroys the whole family, Danny. Your father was hell-bent on destroying your mother. And it didn’t matter if he destroyed you along with her. By destroying a child’s love for his mother, he locked away a part of you. That part is screaming to be set free every time you criticize your beautiful wife for her mothering — especially when you know there is no reason for the negativity.”

La Mar is excited. “Tell him, Dr. Marshack. Tell him what part is locked away.”

I smile at La Mar. She dearly loves her autistic husband and wants him to grow. “Danny, do you want to know what I mean?” I asked. Danny said nothing, but he waited.

“I take it that you are ready,” I said. I chose carefully my next few comments. “You are not your father’s property Danny. You are a whole person. Even as a child you were a whole person, who loved his mother and his father. Even if they fell out of love — even if they hurt and betrayed each other — you loved them both.”

“Your father made you choose sides in his war with your mother. He stole your childhood from you. You were innocent. You didn’t understand the complications of a NeuroDivergent relationship. You deserved to have love for both of your parents, even if they didn’t love each other anymore. Your father’s anger frightened you. Your mother’s weakness frightened you. So, you chose sides to make peace with the conflict. You turned your back on your mother, just as your father planned.”

“But I decided I didn’t want to see my mother anymore,” Danny argued. “It was my decision.”

“I’m sure that suited your father,” I said. “In your father’s transactional world, he had won. He was right. And you were doing the right thing to cut off your mother. He never thought about how it made you feel. Winning is important to your father, not healing.”

“So, for the sake of argument, Dr. Marshack, let’s assume you are right about all of this. “What does my father’s parental alienation have to do with my wife and me?” Danny’s challenge was simple, straight forward — and transactional — the standard often used by the NeuroDiverse. Now that he had accepted the logic I outlined about parental alienation, he was moving onto the second topic — his marital problems.

“It’s very simple Danny. Your father encouraged you to hate your mother. Your mother, whom you loved. In order to resolve the conflict imposed by your father, you turned your back on your mother as a child and have kept it turned away even as a grown man. Only when you became the parent of a little boy yourself, did you have to turn around. The feelings are emerging once again of the conflict you felt all those years ago. In other words, how do you keep the hatred going amidst love for the mother of your son? You didn’t resolve those conflicted feelings from your childhood, Danny. You haven’t healed. You buried them, only to resurrect them with your wife when you argue with her over mothering.”

I continue. “It’s not La Mar’s mothering that alarms you. It’s that she is a mother (flaws and all). Your own mother could not save you from your father. She wasn’t capable or brave or who knows what? She loved you but was flawed just like La Mar. Only when your father shows his misogynistic side by calling your wife foul names, do you wake up and realize something is wrong with the man.”

“One more thing Danny.” This is where I bring it home. “Do you realize that disparaging La Mar, even if it is out of your son’s ear shot, — that you are imposing on Charlie the same conflict your father imposed on you? Has it occurred to you that Charlie may feel as you did — that he has no choice but to shut down the conflict between his parents by choosing sides? Why would you want to put him through that suffering?”

More. “It’s not your fault, Danny. You were conned. You were psychologically abused by your father. But you can fix this. I will help you. You and La Mar and Charlie deserve a wonderful life where we allow for mistakes. In fact, mistakes help us grow into better people, if we forgive and work toward resolution. It’s not the transactional model of win/lose, Danny. It’s the interactional model of loving the other person enough to give second chances.”

Once you’ve met one autistic person, you need to meet the rest of the family

This may be the first time I have shared such a long vignette, but I know of no other way to untangle the mystery of parental alienation in a NeuroDivergent family. Honestly, I could have told you more, but I will save that for the next blog in this series.

It is just as important to learn about how Danny healed from the devastation wrought by his father. But for now, I want you to reread this scenario to fully understand how autism filled in the gaps of this cruelest of abuses.

I am not saying that autism causes parental alienation. Parental alienation is a cruel form of abuse (to children and adults) that is perpetrated by mentally disturbed and unethical people. Autism is a risk factor that can’t be ignored if we are to help NeuroDivergent families survive this devastation.

In order to comprehend the full extent of parental alienation in NeuroDivergent families, you need to know much more than the diagnosis of autism, or even the dynamics of parental alienation. You need to analyze the interacting systems composed of the Autist and their family members. It is the interaction of these systems that breaks down the child, the mother or father, and the family.

This is why I offer yet another way to think about autism: Once you have met one autistic person, you need to meet the rest of the family.

NeuroDiverse individuals lean heavily on the transactional method to problem solve. For Danny’s father it was a simple matter of math that he should leave his family for two years. It never occurred to him that this might disrupt the family system. Making more money seemed to be his agenda.²

If he had taken a more interactional approach, he would have weighed the value of the increased income against the emotional/psychological well-being of his family. For example, he may still have chosen to work in the UAE but to travel home more often. He would have earned less money but may have kept the love alive in his marriage.

By choosing to make a transactional decision, rather than one of the heart, the message to Danny was confusing too. He was influenced to believe that his role as a husband and a father is more about financial support than emotional support.

Of course, many people can make this mistake, but Danny’s father went further. When he did return home, to find his wife had been unfaithful, he took no responsibility for the breakdown of his marriage. Without empathy, he couldn’t fathom how his wife felt being left alone. All he could process is that he had been wronged. This is characteristic black and white thinking often seen with NeuroDiverse individuals.

Context blindness comes into play here too (another characteristic of autism). Danny’s father didn’t recognize how his actions affected his children. He didn’t evaluate the toll on the development of his children. Danny’s response to his father’s absence was to work hard to be a perfect child. He got stellar grades in school and helped his mother with the younger children. But his perfectionistic tendencies could not make up for the loss of his father.

Danny would still have missed his father for those two years but he didn’t have to feel all alone with his grief had his father stayed in contact and visited more often. Danny’s father acted like all that mattered was the job, not affirming those he loved. Danny accepted his father’s decisions all of these years without questioning his own feelings. This is very common for those on the Spectrum who have alexithymia.

The family may have been able to recoup from all of this turmoil, but Danny’s father destroyed that opportunity. With Empathy Dysfunction, he thought of nothing except punishing his wife. He convinced Danny that he was totally justified in taking him away from his mother because she was a “cheater.” Never once did he consider how damaging this would be to his children, let alone the mother of his children.

You might be asking why Danny would accept his father’s logic? Or why he could turn away from his mother and never look back. As an autistic child, Danny added up the numbers similarly to his father. In his mind, if his mother committed a sin, she deserved to be punished and banished from the family forever, regardless of how much this pained him. He had no idea that his father paid the judge to make sure she was cut off from her children. Rather he believed that she was a cold-hearted woman who walked out because she was a “cheater.”

It was La Mar who forced the issue. Months before Danny found out, La Mar discovered the truth about Danny’s childhood from his step-mother. Danny’s step-mother was also terrified to confront her husband over what he had done to his children. However, she wanted the truth to come out and offered it to La Mar.

Love is not a transaction. Love is a conversation.

Most of you will read this tragic story with disbelief that anyone could be as cruel as Danny’s father. You are just as likely to believe that you would never be as gullible as Danny — not with your mother, whom you love. However, I want you to consider the vulnerability of an autistic child, or any child for that matter.

Danny was on his own to make sense of a tragic situation. As an autist he accepted a simple transactional answer. This acceptance worked for many years. It made it possible for him to let go of his suffering. Of course, deep down inside the problem was not resolved and surfaced with angry outbursts toward his wife.

If NeuroDivergent families are to face the heavy toll of parental alienation, they will need to come to terms with the transactional decision making that handicaps recovery. Love is not a transaction. Love is not something that you give or take away.

In fact, love is not a thing at all. Love is a dynamic process — an energy — that is exchanged between people when they affirm each other. The process of affirming and connecting with each other helps love to grow and mature and survive.

I think of love as a conversation that ebbs and flows. When we interact with our loved ones, this ebbing and flowing energy rises and falls with the words and perspective shared with each other.

Danny’s father parked love on the side of the road when he left his family to work in the United Arab Emirates. He thought he could pick it up again when he returned home. That’s not how love works, but transactional people can lose track of this principle. If you act as if love is a commodity, then a NeuroDivergent family may be vulnerable to parental alienation.

1. I have protected the identity of this family with changes of name and minor details. Essentially the story is typical of NeuroDivergent families where parental alienation occurs.

2. To learn more about some of this terminology I refer you to my book “Empathy is More Than Words.” I describe several terms in the book such as transactional, interactional, Empathy Dysfunctional, context blindness, alexithymia and other traits of autism.