Revised September 17, 2023
Introduction: On July 20th, 2012, my world changed forever. It was the day I first saw my name printed next to the words “alleged abuser” in the cold, black and white text of a DFS Report. The emotions that welled up inside me were a mixture of anger, helplessness, and rage. But let me take you back a bit.
The Unfolding Nightmare: Before that fateful day, I had been subjected to hurtful labels like “mistress,” “paramour,” “prostitute,” “bug-eyed freak,” and “whore.” Even Pat, the church secretary, had called me a “slut” one Sunday, courtesy of the alienator who had poisoned her ears earlier that week. It was a level of hatred I had never encountered before.
But to be branded as an “abuser” was an entirely different level of accusation. After all, it was the alienator’s actions that had led to her own issues with the law, like hitting Mary with a wooden spoon or her violent altercation with Jack. Yet here I was, labeled as the villain.
A Willing Decision to Love: I had willingly chosen this path. I decided to embrace the responsibility of raising children who weren’t biologically mine, to love them, honor them, and cherish them. I cooked countless meals, organized numerous birthday parties, orchestrated family trips, and arranged countless sleepovers. I loved them like they were my very own.
The Invisible War: Little did I know, an invisible war was being waged against us. No one was spared – not clergy, neighbors, friends, or even school teachers. Even Jack’s estranged, abusive parents eagerly joined the ranks of those who rallied around the hate.
The Limitless Destruction: The alienator knew no bounds when it came to destroying our lives. She even went so far as to turn our own customers against us, spinning tales of an “abusive, alcoholic” husband leaving her as a broke, single mother of three.
Understanding the Abyss: I once questioned why anyone would walk away from their family. I was that person full of doubt and accusations. But then I walked the dark and treacherous road of parental alienation, where I witnessed true, intentional, and calculated hate up close.
Now I understand why some people give up. I understand why doors are slammed and locked, never to open again.
Conclusion: At 54 years old, the alienator’s only accomplishment in life seemed to be effectively hating another. Pathetic. Instead of support for loving her children, I received 32 false allegations and 16 court appearances. Instead of a “thank you”, she put “alleged abuser” by my name.
She would never get over it. In fact, it would take three years, 25 days, a judge’s stern command to “Move On!” and a court order to make her sign divorce papers.
But the hate didn’t stop there. In fact, after three years and 25 days, it was just getting started.
Photo: Our Alienator / Photo Credit @kaitlynsaraphotography
