Abuse by Proxy | Empowered Alienated Moms

Parental Alienators are Sadistic

Sadism is behind parental alienation. Alienators enjoy bringing harm and pain to the target parent. What better way to bring pain, suffering and harm to a target parent than to take away her child who she is devoted to? And to even get societal and court approval to continue and advance their abuse? Jackpot.

The alienator’s primary motive is to cause harm to the target parent. Sadism is a root of parental alienation. It includes a lack of empathy and consciousness. It is a deliberate ongoing, destructive long term pervasive pattern and planned approach by an abuser intent on harming.

Parental alienation is not the result of a protective parent struggling to protect her child from an abuser and accidentally stating true accounts of concerning pathological traits from the abuser, such as continuous lying or accounts of true abuse.

Failed attempts at legitimate, necessary protection is not parental alienation, but a loving, caring parent struggling to protect her child. Such unfortunate, traumatic struggles are often the result when her family court has failed her and her child by not protecting them. Family court has likely failed again in looking out for the best interests of the children, as its mission hypocritically states.

Alienators know they are harming the target parent and possibly the child, but they don’t care about their child. Without empathy and consciousness, they don’t care about anyone but themselves and their twisted, controlling objectives.

The kids become collateral damage to the alienator in his focused intent to harm his target. He is indifferent at best to the irrelevant kids he is using to abuse by proxy. The kids are tools to be used as pawns for his destructive objective.

Parental alienation is the ultimate abuse to keep abusing and controlling the target. It makes alienators feel powerful and significant to bring harm and pain to someone who got away from them.

Alienators know the target parent loves and is devoted to their child(ren). What better way to punish her for leaving than to take her child away? Furthermore, she is shamed by society and receives no support. This is just icing on the cake of harm for the sadistic alienator.

Until court understands and cares about pathology (including a combination of Cluster B disorders NPD, BPD, ASPD – “sociopathy”), abuse and trauma, a struggling protective parent is unfortunately the only way to be when stuck with an alienator taking our child from us.

Dear son,

You participated in destroying your relationship with me when you threw me under the bus, as your father trained you to do. I don’t belong there and didn’t deserve your treatment and handling of me, with his manipulation at my expense.

What concerned and worried me most was the lack of empathy you displayed in your choice. I know this can not bode well for you and your future. What also concerned me was a displayed inability to understand another perspective. This also can not bode well for you and future relationships.

Although I felt devastated by your betrayal, I worried more for what was displayed about your developing character and ability to find happiness. My hopes and wishes for how I wanted to raise you were squashed. You certainly weren’t becoming a well-mannered gentleman at a core that I hoped to offer the world as a basis.

I did my best to prevent the current outcome. Maybe you will realize this one day. You will not be able to say I didn’t do anything about you being raised by a psychopath. It is now on you at almost 21 to determine your future and fate. Whether you will follow in his footsteps or turn a corner of your own.

Ever wonder about the source of your unfounded, unjust hatred towards me? Who has been pouring poison in your ears to turn you into a weapon of mass destruction? Surely this can not be a loving, caring, respectful source. Good luck with giving your soul to Satan. I have inadvertently done it, so I understand how it can happen. But no loving mother can then wish that experience on her beloved child.

Having endured the struggle to then untangle and retrieve my soul, I have desperately wanted to spare you the same struggle. No loving mother hopes for pain and struggle for her child. Her heart only breaks when that is all she sees for her child and can not change it.

It’s time for me to let your hand go. I don’t want to, but I need to. My heart can break just so much. God didn’t mean for me to live under a bus. It’s not that comfortable and I can’t do much with my life from there. I can’t allow my son to continue the legacy of me being a scapegoat my entire life. That is no longer my role with anyone, most especially someone I gave birth to. That is not a role my son should expect me to shoulder.

I didn’t let you go before. You were taken from me. I have no choice now but to let you go, as you’ve already left. You’ve been lost to me for too many years. I have to radically accept that harsh reality no healthy mother wants to. Like so much missing in the Mom Manual, I have had to painfully learn and accept this ugly part of my life and my motherhood on my own.

I have and will continue to grieve for the hopes and dreams I’ve had for you and our relationship. I have to let the universe hold and care for you. Just as I had to do when you were born. It somehow felt wrong having the chord cut and seeing you whisked away by strangers, surrounded by them, connected one moment, disconnected next. I just wanted to protect you and be the one caring for you with my genuine love that filled my heart, as I marveled at the most beautiful sight I ever saw.

Should you decide to find your true self, have a relationship with me and repair the damage, I would open my door. But I can’t put my life on hold for that hope. It can’t be what God has intended for my life and it would be unfair to my daughter, who needs me, wants me in her life, loves me and deserves me in her life.

I will continue to love you from afar and hope that you will find your path, as I continue to try finding my path. Your soul’s path is always your own, just as mine belongs to me.

Perhaps, one day, the two paths may meet, and our souls may find connection and embrace. I will live with that faith.

I’m Trash

I’m trash, as my 20 year-old son recently told me. I’m also awful as he told me. As I reflect on my awful trashiness, I recall this:

Washing his dirty underwear, and being the only parent to do so.
Doing all the dirty, messy, complicated, demanding, responsible aspects of raising a child, as this was beneath his non-trashy, wonderful father.
Working overtime since I didn’t receive child support from his father.
Sometimes I took my son to work with me when his father didn’t show up for his limited parenting time. His father always had the next level of a video game to accomplish, to maintain his awesomeness. When he did utilize his parenting time, he usually had other people be with him. My son often stated his sadness and anger over not seeing him on his time and not wanting to go again.
Taking my son to all his medical appointments, including his regular orthodontist appointments half an hour away, often with a screaming, protesting toddler. Such mundane, frustrating, boring parenting work was beneath his father, including paying for his half of the bills. Besides, the word sacrifice was not a word his father cared to know, embrace, or have in his vocabulary. That was for the little people, like me.
I got an MBA, an education that had nothing to do with my interests or passions, in order to provide better for my son. I chose a direction of my life out of lack from his father, to step into the required roles of both, mother and father. Meanwhile, his father explored the glamorous, rewarding world of hedonism.
I looked for any second I could to work overtime and finish my MBA from home to be there for my son, often studying before he woke up and after he went to bed. I accomplished this in super-human, but of course, still trashy ways.
Having to leave work 45 minutes away to bring my son lunch or pick him up from school when he was sick, since his amazing, important father, who lived 5 minutes away couldn’t be bothered.
Yet it is his father who has “been there” for my son, as my son has stated, and his father is now the one undoing the damage and trauma from awful trashy me, as he has elaborated.
Considering the reality behind the label of “trash” I was given, I can consider new meaning for the word and proudly say “I’m awful trash,” just like Wonder Woman.