Don, I deeply resonate with your reflection here, and I appreciate your thoughtfulness as always.
I called my first draft of anything the ego draft. The tone is usually a little self-righteous, condescending, and/or irritable. While editing it, I try to revise it so that the ego is diminished and the more soulful truth if it comes through. This inevitably changes the tone to something smaller, softer and simpler.
I have no doubt that you've done something similar with your piece, and I hope to read it someday!
You may read the peace in question sooner than later, considering the positive support I’m getting here. It’s gotten lots of scrutiny already, but I’ll give it another going over with your “ego draft“ in mind. Thank you!
I love that, the "ego draft." I think whenever writing something emotionally challenging it's easy for the ego to shine through. Editing gets you to what you are actually trying to say.
I agree that tone matters. But it is also subjective. There are people who enjoy hard and resentful bc it reflects what they feel. Anything that resonated with you will be enjoyable to read. We want someone to confirm that we are good and not crazy. I prefer a soft, reflective tone. This is what nourishes me. I find this in your writing no matter what you are feeling. Hurt and disappointment is different from angry and revengeful anyway. In the end though, when our tone is honest and open, it will speak to a readers heart. But of course, only if their heart is receiving. We cannot touch a closed heart or mind. It is not our job to open someone. I suppose our main purpose is to work on opening ourselves and writing with love. You do this so well. Plus, I don’t know if I already told you this, but I really love your face. It says it all. xo
Thank you, Danni. Honestly, I thought about this while writing this essay. This is my take, of course, but I didn't make it seem that way. I wrote as if I KNOW that resentment is a bad tone to take in writing. You are right; it's subjective. (Plus, if the main character in a story is in fact resentful, that would be an exception of course).
One Substack writer often writes about their past, in which they were abused in a relationship. They often write about it and I personally got tired of reading about it, but I think there are others, especially those who've been abused themselves, who may like a resentful and unforgiving voice/tone because it's how they feel themselves.
Personally, I don't want to stay hung up alongside the author. I want—for them and for me as the reader—to move into a higher plane of acceptance, a place where we see that the world is an imperfect place, that humans are subjected to such a range of influences that they can't control, influences that sometimes can leave them unable to meet the challenges of life. Sometimes we come head to head with those people and we get hurt.
It's kind of like, if you choose to drive a car, eventually you're going to get a flat tire. Equanimity is expecting it, being at peace with it, and being able to let it go.
Obviously it's not that easy with human relationships, and I'm not saying it should be, but for me, it's the goal.
Hi Dan, I say go for it! Write about whatever is coming up for you and share it here. And here is a piece of guidance from Moth Story Hour that was helpful for me: “Write from the scar, not the wound.”
Don, this piece on tone in memoir really hit home. It’s so easy to let lingering feelings, even subtle ones, bleed into our writing without realizing it. I once tried to write about a particularly frustrating period in my life – let's just say a project that went spectacularly sideways – and every draft came out sounding like a grumpy cat convention. I realized I was still holding onto so much of that initial annoyance, and it was absolutely tainting the narrative. Your point about resentment spoiling good writing is spot on; it’s like trying to bake a soufflé with sour milk. The intention might be good, but the result? Not so much. It takes real introspection to get past that, and your candidness about your own process is incredibly valuable.
Thank you, Alexander. I had a similar experience. I tried to write about two separate incidents in my life where men much older than me tried to sexually assault me. In the essay, I referred to one of them as an “asshole.“ that’s how I knew the whole essay was probably lacking in mindfulness and equanimity, that it was more of a therapy appointment than an essay, and I decided it wasn’t time to write about it yet.
I hesitate to give you any writing advice because your skill surpasses mine, in my opinion. My only thought on this (and I really enjoyed reading your thoughts on the subject) is that while we strive to put forth our best selves, which one might call setting the proper tone, sometimes it’s refreshing to hear the unvarnished outburst from the person who is typically “under control.” I think getting a peek at the raw emotion that lies within the person who typically “has his shit together“ can be deeply validating to the rest of us messy humans. I think rawness, that is not reckless, has its own beauty. One of the things that I love about reading what you write Don is that it’s obvious that there is a real human behind the insights.
However you move forward in words, I look forward to the gift that they feel like they are as I read them. So thank you.
Thank you, Taft. That is some valuable feedback there, and I really appreciate it! (I will admit, it scares the crap out of me to expose too much emotion, in part because it has been used against me in the past [by the same “antagonist” of whom I speak here] and partly because I’ve always been very self-conscious).
Don! I needed this piece more than anything today. I'm embarking on writing a full memoir about my relationship with my dad, which is daunting now that I've established what my through line is. And my recent break from my mother is on my mind a lot, as inquire within about which stories I'll tell. I do have resentments, still, and I still need to write the stories. I agree completely that the resentment doesn't really have a place that helps the stories along. I do see my parent's humanity and I do have compassion for them, and I still have anger about the things they and we wrought. I'm all for you publishing the story you're holding back at the moment. I definitely want to have a cup with you, when I'm on the Cape next month. Great essay, thank you! xo
Thank you, Nan. I do like the way you write, and though I’ve not read a lot of your stuff yet, I remember it having at its base the attempt to understand even those who have hurt you. I think that it’s not a requirement to overcome the anger and resentment, but only to acknowledge it, even in the writing, as I think I indicated. I think for you, and for me, this “grown-up’ attitude (tone) will come through automatically.
I hope so! I'm really working on the crap that sometimes gets in the way of my higher self. My writing is definitely focused on my spiritual progress and growth. Of owning my stuff, and striving for balance and humility, AND FUN!
I agree with everything you are saying. Tone matters. You can’t reach your readers on an important topic if you are full of resentment, no matter how justified. Personal growth is the most compelling story out there. And I think your parental alienation story is important to tell.
(I have a friend going through it - it’s extremely heartbreaking. And the system put the kids with the mentally ill parent for months despite all the red flags, finally figured out how deranged the individual is, and now are like “ooops”. The kids need serious therapy, and are… much harder to parent now.)
So your story is very important Don. Not enough people understand it. People in charge of making these decisions don’t get it. The public doesn’t get it. The kids don’t know it’s a thing. I think you should release your story… but with all the understanding you show above. You are a talented writer and storyteller… 💡! I’ve seen you interact with other talented writers on here. Is someone who also gets good writing able to give you feedback on it? (Shame Sandwich lady maybe?) I know assessing your own work is so hard. And friends can support you no matter what. You need a kind critic who knows what you are going for and how to get there.
Your thoughtful approach to your writing is very inspiring and comforting Don. Even on the difficult topics. You show me (and many others I’m sure) that life is hard but that carving out calmness is possible with mindfulness, meditation, and introspection.
Thank you so much, Heather. This is so supportive and kind and helpful!
I have shared my parental alienation story with a few friends on here, most recently with Jeannie Ewing, who said that I did an excellent job of keeping it “my story.”
My other major issue is that my son, who is 31, is showing the same anger, hostility, and unwillingness to forgive that his mother did. He read a few of my past posts, that barely even mentioned the issue, and as a result, he is not even speaking to me now. (according to the specialist, Amy Baker, this is a typical symptom of parental alienation syndrome ).So you can see that I am incredibly hesitant to put anything about it on Substack.
And yet, it’s the most profound thing that has ever happened to me, and I very much need to not only write about it, but to be seen, heard, and understood (I do go to therapy for this marriage purpose.)
Oh I’m so glad you have people you have shared it with. Yes, your son complicates the matter.
…I’m learning something right now. I’m in the middle of it. If it were a wound it would be… healing with stitches. So it isn’t a scar yet. Isn’t ready to be told. Um… so without context… I’m probably telling you stuff you already know but maybe it helps to hear it:
Making yourself tiny to avoid upsetting a loved one doesn’t work. They will get upset at you anyway. They will pick the tiniest “infraction” and make it the reason they hate you so it’s all your fault. Your resentment at them will grow as nothing you do is ever good enough, compassionate enough, understanding enough, no matter how much work you put in, and how carefully chosen your words are.
This can make you very sick.
You love your son. Loving yourself is harder sometimes. But you deserve to love yourself. By the sounds of it, your story is about you, and your son’s story is about you too. Until his story is about him, it won’t be true.
You are wiser than me - it feels strange to sit here and say these things this morning. But I look over what I’ve written and I believe it is all true. And I suspect it resonates. So I’m going to hit send.
Just one final note: sometimes all our options hurt - even the “do nothing” option. I think you are in this situation. You have my compassion. May you choose the path that sets you free.
It's almost as if you were there, Heather, for what I've been through, and am still going through! You're so right that making yourself small to avoid upsetting a loved one doesn't work. And in my case, it's exactly true that nothing I do is good enough. It's been absolutely baffling and frustrating! I could say or do two opposite things and they would both be wrong. I have apologized so sincerely for my part in things, and they are all called "non-apologies."
I have actually given up, as of our last phone call. My son is an adult and he obviously needs to work things out on his own. He's not going to find his peace by calling me a bad father.
Thank you so much for your wise words, Heather. If you ever need to talk about your thing, please feel free to DM me.
Don, I appreciate your internal journey on whether to publish this piece or not. You are a deep thinker. None of us is perfect, though. If we still carry resentment, it's okay as long as we own it. I had resentment toward one person for quite a few years, even though I knew I "shouldn't." I just couldn't let it go. Eventually, it went for the most part (although there may be a few twigs and branches left behind as well). Wishing you the best, whatever you decide about publishing this piece.
This is such an interesting piece, Don, a meta perspective on writing as it is informed by mindfulness and by your own aesthetics and ethics.
I tend to think of 'good' writing in the same way, and hadn't realized how much tone is a part of my criteria for good writing until reading this. It's subtle but always there, kind of like the energetic imprint beneath the writing.
For some reason while reading this short essay I kept thinking of the movie "Leaving Las Vegas." When I saw it many years ago, I was deeply disturbed and disappointed by it. It felt like one long slog through horrific suffering without any kind of redemption or hope. I'm not sure that's exactly what you're describing, but something feels similar. It's not that I need a happy ending, but like you I feel like I need the author or creator to have some awareness of their contribution to a situation and to not bog a story down in their own resentments or ignorance. I mean, why bother reading that? The world is already so full of that!
I do think there is a place for that kind of writing, that kind of bearing witness to our own shit, so to speak. I'll do this in my own journal, it's like taking inventory of my mind as I'm still in process with things. But I don't think that's what makes good writing to share with others. Your essay helps me understand why I've felt that way, thanks for articulating this so skillfully.
Maia, thank you! I'm so glad you found this interesting and relevant. One viewpoint that really makes a lot of sense to me is that the reader should be given space to have their own reactions and feelings about your story, instead of being fed all the feelings (and feeling confused or conflicted if their own feelings are different).
And in regards to what you were saying about hope; true, why would we want to read a story without any? Even the worst story about the holocaust is usually about someone who didn't lose hope, who retains at least a tiny fragment of it. Otherwise it isn't really a story, it's a newsreel.
I applaud your curiosity and introspection. In a similar vein, I often struggle with whether to tell stories that are co-owned by me and another, as nearly all stories are. Decades ago, I went to see Isabelle Allende speak; she advocated for telling all the stories. It is what we hide, not what we share, that makes us vulnerable, she said. And while I can find a philosophical alignment, I still do a lot of work around what I truly feel is mine and what is not as I share.
Damn! This hit me with such impact! Sometimes you just need someone to provide you with the words, such as "co-owned." That really helps explain one of my main fears in publishing.
And the Allende advice; I like it! It is what we hide that makes us vulnerable, not what we share.
I am taking your words very seriously, and grateful to you! 🙏💚
Don, this is the first piece I've read of yours, but I'm looking forward to reading more. I had never heard of parental alienation syndrome until I read your article, but I totally understand where you are coming from and have experienced this myself recently with my partner. We raised three of my grandchildren, and I had no idea how she had influenced their perception of me, which has led to a very strained relationship with them. A few years ago, I would have come onto this platform feeling like a semi-intelligent and decent writer, but the last three years of my relationship with my partner and grandchildren, or the lack thereof, have stripped me of any confidence. Please publish your story for the rest of us who are just beginning our healing journey.
Tina, hearing this from you makes a big difference, and I may just go ahead and publish my story because of your feedback (others have been very supportive as well).
I want to share something that I just copied from the bottom of that unpublished essay. It's definitions of PAS from a book that I found incredibly empowering for me, and a website that I recently came across.
Parental alienation occurs when one parent turns a child against the other parent and his or her family. Parental alienation is defined as the systematic denigration of one parent by the other in order to disrupt what would otherwise be a loving parent-child bond. This behavior can accompany high-conflict marriages, but it is most commonly associated with family separation or divorce involving legal action.
And from the book Adult Children of Parental Alienation Syndrome, by Amy J. L. Baker:
In it’s most extreme form, [adult children of Parental Alienation Syndrome] report that they despise or are frightened of the targeted parent, and refuse to have any relationship with him or her."
That last part is definitely the case for me and my son. Thank you for subscribing, Tina. There are various other of my essays that are somehow or other influenced by this heartbreaking loss in my life, directly or indirectly, although most of them have a theme of mindfulness and meditation using autobiography as a base.
Thanks for the information, Don. I pray that one day you and your son will be able to establish a loving relationship. Hopefully, one day he will see the truth that you're not what his mother made you out to be and give you a chance to establish a good father-son relationship.
As I read your piece this morning—before getting out of bed, all I could think of was bits and pieces of Khalil Gibran’s poem “On Children”.
“Your children are not your children but the arrows of life we as parents—the bows—have set in motion, the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.”
I know I paraphrased the hell out of that.
Yet, I identify very much with your essay.
And then all I could think of as I lay here remembering back on how rotten of a mom I was to MY children and to the co-parents/husband(s) I raised them with… and the thought came to me, “How do I stop being so damn judgmental, not of just my ex’s but of so many around me and out in the wilds of life as it’s going on right now?”
And my Innate Spirit/Wisdom/Guide/God—call it what one will, answered quickly because I had asked—“Forgiveness, no, not of others, but of yourself for holding onto those resentments and thoughts for so long.”
Damn! Now why couldn’t “i” think of that?
Now this is the part where “I” ask for forgiveness for my whole day, then give thanks____________because I’ll be getting out of bed soon. 🥱😳🤨🤔🤣☮️🫶🏻
Thank you, Gail. Your thoughts reflect some hints and ghosts that are beginning to show themselves.
I have forgiven my children’s mother intellectually, because I understand that she is a victim of generational trauma and other factors. I have forgiven my son’s hostility toward me for the same reason.
But deep in my heart, my wound is still crying out, Why did you forsake me!
Don. Thank you. I did not find this entertaining at all...but helpful and important yes! I really appreciate how you are sharing your honest journey. I feel like we are walking around the fire with you...you are saying I want to tell you about the fire, but I am not sure I won't burn you and me if I do it too soon or in the wrong way. I just appreciate that. I feel like there are plenty of things I have decided not to talk about directly for what I think are similar reasons to yours...fear of my own anger, resentment not yet resolved or even faced, sadness too palpable to venture too close. I really appreciate that you even consider taking us on this journey so honestly. Thanks mate.
Thank you, Ian. “Sadness too palpable to venture too close” is accurate. But today I’m turning over a new leaf! Tired of feeling sad, and there is beauty everywhere I look, so I’m just going to LOOK.
Don, I say go for the personal and your feelings about everything you mention. I think you sound human. And what you're feeling is not foreign to the reader. Are you leaning that way? For me writing is cathartic. Maybe for most if not all writers. I can work my way through feelings or situations that have happened, by writing about it, and apparently you are doing that too. I know you'll figure it out.
I love your reflections here Don, and fully agree that resentment is very off-putting in writing. I recall Jeanine Oullette saying that if we put our own emotions into the writing, it crowds out space for the reader to have their own emotional response. Our job is simply to tell what happened and invite the reader to have their own response. As a therapist, my heart sinks when someone is stuck in the narrative of what someone else did wrong. Yes, it needs acknowledging, particularly if they were a child at the time, but the interesting work comes when someone takes ownership for their own part in what happened (and here I'm talking about adulthood much more so). The growth comes when we can look at what patterns in us co-created that situation. As you say, the other person was just a walk-on part. Wishing you well as you grapple with what to publish around this delicate subject ❤️
Don, I deeply resonate with your reflection here, and I appreciate your thoughtfulness as always.
I called my first draft of anything the ego draft. The tone is usually a little self-righteous, condescending, and/or irritable. While editing it, I try to revise it so that the ego is diminished and the more soulful truth if it comes through. This inevitably changes the tone to something smaller, softer and simpler.
I have no doubt that you've done something similar with your piece, and I hope to read it someday!
Ha, the ego draft, that’s a great approach!
You may read the peace in question sooner than later, considering the positive support I’m getting here. It’s gotten lots of scrutiny already, but I’ll give it another going over with your “ego draft“ in mind. Thank you!
I’m guessing you’ve already done the work without the label, my friend! Looking forward to it.
I love that, the "ego draft." I think whenever writing something emotionally challenging it's easy for the ego to shine through. Editing gets you to what you are actually trying to say.
I agree that tone matters. But it is also subjective. There are people who enjoy hard and resentful bc it reflects what they feel. Anything that resonated with you will be enjoyable to read. We want someone to confirm that we are good and not crazy. I prefer a soft, reflective tone. This is what nourishes me. I find this in your writing no matter what you are feeling. Hurt and disappointment is different from angry and revengeful anyway. In the end though, when our tone is honest and open, it will speak to a readers heart. But of course, only if their heart is receiving. We cannot touch a closed heart or mind. It is not our job to open someone. I suppose our main purpose is to work on opening ourselves and writing with love. You do this so well. Plus, I don’t know if I already told you this, but I really love your face. It says it all. xo
Thank you, Danni. Honestly, I thought about this while writing this essay. This is my take, of course, but I didn't make it seem that way. I wrote as if I KNOW that resentment is a bad tone to take in writing. You are right; it's subjective. (Plus, if the main character in a story is in fact resentful, that would be an exception of course).
One Substack writer often writes about their past, in which they were abused in a relationship. They often write about it and I personally got tired of reading about it, but I think there are others, especially those who've been abused themselves, who may like a resentful and unforgiving voice/tone because it's how they feel themselves.
Personally, I don't want to stay hung up alongside the author. I want—for them and for me as the reader—to move into a higher plane of acceptance, a place where we see that the world is an imperfect place, that humans are subjected to such a range of influences that they can't control, influences that sometimes can leave them unable to meet the challenges of life. Sometimes we come head to head with those people and we get hurt.
It's kind of like, if you choose to drive a car, eventually you're going to get a flat tire. Equanimity is expecting it, being at peace with it, and being able to let it go.
Obviously it's not that easy with human relationships, and I'm not saying it should be, but for me, it's the goal.
Oh, and thank you for your love and kindness, as well as your insightful ways of seeing, Danni! 🙏💚
Hi Dan, I say go for it! Write about whatever is coming up for you and share it here. And here is a piece of guidance from Moth Story Hour that was helpful for me: “Write from the scar, not the wound.”
That’s a good one, Cindy, I like it! Thanks. 🙏💚
Don, this piece on tone in memoir really hit home. It’s so easy to let lingering feelings, even subtle ones, bleed into our writing without realizing it. I once tried to write about a particularly frustrating period in my life – let's just say a project that went spectacularly sideways – and every draft came out sounding like a grumpy cat convention. I realized I was still holding onto so much of that initial annoyance, and it was absolutely tainting the narrative. Your point about resentment spoiling good writing is spot on; it’s like trying to bake a soufflé with sour milk. The intention might be good, but the result? Not so much. It takes real introspection to get past that, and your candidness about your own process is incredibly valuable.
Thank you, Alexander. I had a similar experience. I tried to write about two separate incidents in my life where men much older than me tried to sexually assault me. In the essay, I referred to one of them as an “asshole.“ that’s how I knew the whole essay was probably lacking in mindfulness and equanimity, that it was more of a therapy appointment than an essay, and I decided it wasn’t time to write about it yet.
"a grumpy cat convention" -- oh, that's good, Alexander. Yeah, I've been there ; )
I hesitate to give you any writing advice because your skill surpasses mine, in my opinion. My only thought on this (and I really enjoyed reading your thoughts on the subject) is that while we strive to put forth our best selves, which one might call setting the proper tone, sometimes it’s refreshing to hear the unvarnished outburst from the person who is typically “under control.” I think getting a peek at the raw emotion that lies within the person who typically “has his shit together“ can be deeply validating to the rest of us messy humans. I think rawness, that is not reckless, has its own beauty. One of the things that I love about reading what you write Don is that it’s obvious that there is a real human behind the insights.
However you move forward in words, I look forward to the gift that they feel like they are as I read them. So thank you.
Thank you, Taft. That is some valuable feedback there, and I really appreciate it! (I will admit, it scares the crap out of me to expose too much emotion, in part because it has been used against me in the past [by the same “antagonist” of whom I speak here] and partly because I’ve always been very self-conscious).
Don! I needed this piece more than anything today. I'm embarking on writing a full memoir about my relationship with my dad, which is daunting now that I've established what my through line is. And my recent break from my mother is on my mind a lot, as inquire within about which stories I'll tell. I do have resentments, still, and I still need to write the stories. I agree completely that the resentment doesn't really have a place that helps the stories along. I do see my parent's humanity and I do have compassion for them, and I still have anger about the things they and we wrought. I'm all for you publishing the story you're holding back at the moment. I definitely want to have a cup with you, when I'm on the Cape next month. Great essay, thank you! xo
Thank you, Nan. I do like the way you write, and though I’ve not read a lot of your stuff yet, I remember it having at its base the attempt to understand even those who have hurt you. I think that it’s not a requirement to overcome the anger and resentment, but only to acknowledge it, even in the writing, as I think I indicated. I think for you, and for me, this “grown-up’ attitude (tone) will come through automatically.
I hope so! I'm really working on the crap that sometimes gets in the way of my higher self. My writing is definitely focused on my spiritual progress and growth. Of owning my stuff, and striving for balance and humility, AND FUN!
That’s probably why we found each other! 😊🌈
I imagine you are correct in that assessment, kind sir! xo
I appreciate your public exploration of resentment, writer's voice, PAS, our relationship to our pain (my relationship to my pain).
I love the extended metaphor of the tree across the road.
Thank you.
Thank you, Mary, very much! 🙏💚
Yes, I thought that was a great metaphor as well.
Thanks, Maia!
I agree with everything you are saying. Tone matters. You can’t reach your readers on an important topic if you are full of resentment, no matter how justified. Personal growth is the most compelling story out there. And I think your parental alienation story is important to tell.
(I have a friend going through it - it’s extremely heartbreaking. And the system put the kids with the mentally ill parent for months despite all the red flags, finally figured out how deranged the individual is, and now are like “ooops”. The kids need serious therapy, and are… much harder to parent now.)
So your story is very important Don. Not enough people understand it. People in charge of making these decisions don’t get it. The public doesn’t get it. The kids don’t know it’s a thing. I think you should release your story… but with all the understanding you show above. You are a talented writer and storyteller… 💡! I’ve seen you interact with other talented writers on here. Is someone who also gets good writing able to give you feedback on it? (Shame Sandwich lady maybe?) I know assessing your own work is so hard. And friends can support you no matter what. You need a kind critic who knows what you are going for and how to get there.
Your thoughtful approach to your writing is very inspiring and comforting Don. Even on the difficult topics. You show me (and many others I’m sure) that life is hard but that carving out calmness is possible with mindfulness, meditation, and introspection.
Thank you so much, Heather. This is so supportive and kind and helpful!
I have shared my parental alienation story with a few friends on here, most recently with Jeannie Ewing, who said that I did an excellent job of keeping it “my story.”
My other major issue is that my son, who is 31, is showing the same anger, hostility, and unwillingness to forgive that his mother did. He read a few of my past posts, that barely even mentioned the issue, and as a result, he is not even speaking to me now. (according to the specialist, Amy Baker, this is a typical symptom of parental alienation syndrome ).So you can see that I am incredibly hesitant to put anything about it on Substack.
And yet, it’s the most profound thing that has ever happened to me, and I very much need to not only write about it, but to be seen, heard, and understood (I do go to therapy for this marriage purpose.)
Oh I’m so glad you have people you have shared it with. Yes, your son complicates the matter.
…I’m learning something right now. I’m in the middle of it. If it were a wound it would be… healing with stitches. So it isn’t a scar yet. Isn’t ready to be told. Um… so without context… I’m probably telling you stuff you already know but maybe it helps to hear it:
Making yourself tiny to avoid upsetting a loved one doesn’t work. They will get upset at you anyway. They will pick the tiniest “infraction” and make it the reason they hate you so it’s all your fault. Your resentment at them will grow as nothing you do is ever good enough, compassionate enough, understanding enough, no matter how much work you put in, and how carefully chosen your words are.
This can make you very sick.
You love your son. Loving yourself is harder sometimes. But you deserve to love yourself. By the sounds of it, your story is about you, and your son’s story is about you too. Until his story is about him, it won’t be true.
You are wiser than me - it feels strange to sit here and say these things this morning. But I look over what I’ve written and I believe it is all true. And I suspect it resonates. So I’m going to hit send.
Just one final note: sometimes all our options hurt - even the “do nothing” option. I think you are in this situation. You have my compassion. May you choose the path that sets you free.
It's almost as if you were there, Heather, for what I've been through, and am still going through! You're so right that making yourself small to avoid upsetting a loved one doesn't work. And in my case, it's exactly true that nothing I do is good enough. It's been absolutely baffling and frustrating! I could say or do two opposite things and they would both be wrong. I have apologized so sincerely for my part in things, and they are all called "non-apologies."
I have actually given up, as of our last phone call. My son is an adult and he obviously needs to work things out on his own. He's not going to find his peace by calling me a bad father.
Thank you so much for your wise words, Heather. If you ever need to talk about your thing, please feel free to DM me.
Don, I appreciate your internal journey on whether to publish this piece or not. You are a deep thinker. None of us is perfect, though. If we still carry resentment, it's okay as long as we own it. I had resentment toward one person for quite a few years, even though I knew I "shouldn't." I just couldn't let it go. Eventually, it went for the most part (although there may be a few twigs and branches left behind as well). Wishing you the best, whatever you decide about publishing this piece.
Thank you, Sandra, I really appreciate and value your support. 🙏❤️
This is such an interesting piece, Don, a meta perspective on writing as it is informed by mindfulness and by your own aesthetics and ethics.
I tend to think of 'good' writing in the same way, and hadn't realized how much tone is a part of my criteria for good writing until reading this. It's subtle but always there, kind of like the energetic imprint beneath the writing.
For some reason while reading this short essay I kept thinking of the movie "Leaving Las Vegas." When I saw it many years ago, I was deeply disturbed and disappointed by it. It felt like one long slog through horrific suffering without any kind of redemption or hope. I'm not sure that's exactly what you're describing, but something feels similar. It's not that I need a happy ending, but like you I feel like I need the author or creator to have some awareness of their contribution to a situation and to not bog a story down in their own resentments or ignorance. I mean, why bother reading that? The world is already so full of that!
I do think there is a place for that kind of writing, that kind of bearing witness to our own shit, so to speak. I'll do this in my own journal, it's like taking inventory of my mind as I'm still in process with things. But I don't think that's what makes good writing to share with others. Your essay helps me understand why I've felt that way, thanks for articulating this so skillfully.
Maia, thank you! I'm so glad you found this interesting and relevant. One viewpoint that really makes a lot of sense to me is that the reader should be given space to have their own reactions and feelings about your story, instead of being fed all the feelings (and feeling confused or conflicted if their own feelings are different).
And in regards to what you were saying about hope; true, why would we want to read a story without any? Even the worst story about the holocaust is usually about someone who didn't lose hope, who retains at least a tiny fragment of it. Otherwise it isn't really a story, it's a newsreel.
Thanks, for commenting, Maia!
I applaud your curiosity and introspection. In a similar vein, I often struggle with whether to tell stories that are co-owned by me and another, as nearly all stories are. Decades ago, I went to see Isabelle Allende speak; she advocated for telling all the stories. It is what we hide, not what we share, that makes us vulnerable, she said. And while I can find a philosophical alignment, I still do a lot of work around what I truly feel is mine and what is not as I share.
Damn! This hit me with such impact! Sometimes you just need someone to provide you with the words, such as "co-owned." That really helps explain one of my main fears in publishing.
And the Allende advice; I like it! It is what we hide that makes us vulnerable, not what we share.
I am taking your words very seriously, and grateful to you! 🙏💚
As I am to you! 💜
Don, this is the first piece I've read of yours, but I'm looking forward to reading more. I had never heard of parental alienation syndrome until I read your article, but I totally understand where you are coming from and have experienced this myself recently with my partner. We raised three of my grandchildren, and I had no idea how she had influenced their perception of me, which has led to a very strained relationship with them. A few years ago, I would have come onto this platform feeling like a semi-intelligent and decent writer, but the last three years of my relationship with my partner and grandchildren, or the lack thereof, have stripped me of any confidence. Please publish your story for the rest of us who are just beginning our healing journey.
Tina, hearing this from you makes a big difference, and I may just go ahead and publish my story because of your feedback (others have been very supportive as well).
I want to share something that I just copied from the bottom of that unpublished essay. It's definitions of PAS from a book that I found incredibly empowering for me, and a website that I recently came across.
"From the Parental Alienation Awareness website (www.paawareness.com):
What is Parental Alienation?
Parental alienation occurs when one parent turns a child against the other parent and his or her family. Parental alienation is defined as the systematic denigration of one parent by the other in order to disrupt what would otherwise be a loving parent-child bond. This behavior can accompany high-conflict marriages, but it is most commonly associated with family separation or divorce involving legal action.
And from the book Adult Children of Parental Alienation Syndrome, by Amy J. L. Baker:
In it’s most extreme form, [adult children of Parental Alienation Syndrome] report that they despise or are frightened of the targeted parent, and refuse to have any relationship with him or her."
That last part is definitely the case for me and my son. Thank you for subscribing, Tina. There are various other of my essays that are somehow or other influenced by this heartbreaking loss in my life, directly or indirectly, although most of them have a theme of mindfulness and meditation using autobiography as a base.
Thanks for the information, Don. I pray that one day you and your son will be able to establish a loving relationship. Hopefully, one day he will see the truth that you're not what his mother made you out to be and give you a chance to establish a good father-son relationship.
Thank you, Tina. I hope the same for you. 💚🙏
Dear Don,
As I read your piece this morning—before getting out of bed, all I could think of was bits and pieces of Khalil Gibran’s poem “On Children”.
“Your children are not your children but the arrows of life we as parents—the bows—have set in motion, the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.”
I know I paraphrased the hell out of that.
Yet, I identify very much with your essay.
And then all I could think of as I lay here remembering back on how rotten of a mom I was to MY children and to the co-parents/husband(s) I raised them with… and the thought came to me, “How do I stop being so damn judgmental, not of just my ex’s but of so many around me and out in the wilds of life as it’s going on right now?”
And my Innate Spirit/Wisdom/Guide/God—call it what one will, answered quickly because I had asked—“Forgiveness, no, not of others, but of yourself for holding onto those resentments and thoughts for so long.”
Damn! Now why couldn’t “i” think of that?
Now this is the part where “I” ask for forgiveness for my whole day, then give thanks____________because I’ll be getting out of bed soon. 🥱😳🤨🤔🤣☮️🫶🏻
Thank you, Gail. Your thoughts reflect some hints and ghosts that are beginning to show themselves.
I have forgiven my children’s mother intellectually, because I understand that she is a victim of generational trauma and other factors. I have forgiven my son’s hostility toward me for the same reason.
But deep in my heart, my wound is still crying out, Why did you forsake me!
Love is the next thing. It’s coming. 🙏💚
Don. Thank you. I did not find this entertaining at all...but helpful and important yes! I really appreciate how you are sharing your honest journey. I feel like we are walking around the fire with you...you are saying I want to tell you about the fire, but I am not sure I won't burn you and me if I do it too soon or in the wrong way. I just appreciate that. I feel like there are plenty of things I have decided not to talk about directly for what I think are similar reasons to yours...fear of my own anger, resentment not yet resolved or even faced, sadness too palpable to venture too close. I really appreciate that you even consider taking us on this journey so honestly. Thanks mate.
Thank you, Ian. “Sadness too palpable to venture too close” is accurate. But today I’m turning over a new leaf! Tired of feeling sad, and there is beauty everywhere I look, so I’m just going to LOOK.
Amen Don. May you see what is and may your heart be healed by the seeing. Bless you mate.
Don, I say go for the personal and your feelings about everything you mention. I think you sound human. And what you're feeling is not foreign to the reader. Are you leaning that way? For me writing is cathartic. Maybe for most if not all writers. I can work my way through feelings or situations that have happened, by writing about it, and apparently you are doing that too. I know you'll figure it out.
Thanks, Jeanine, for reading and for your feedback. 🙏💚
I love your reflections here Don, and fully agree that resentment is very off-putting in writing. I recall Jeanine Oullette saying that if we put our own emotions into the writing, it crowds out space for the reader to have their own emotional response. Our job is simply to tell what happened and invite the reader to have their own response. As a therapist, my heart sinks when someone is stuck in the narrative of what someone else did wrong. Yes, it needs acknowledging, particularly if they were a child at the time, but the interesting work comes when someone takes ownership for their own part in what happened (and here I'm talking about adulthood much more so). The growth comes when we can look at what patterns in us co-created that situation. As you say, the other person was just a walk-on part. Wishing you well as you grapple with what to publish around this delicate subject ❤️
Vicki, I have to say thank you so much for reflecting, understanding, validating, and not advising. It’s just what I need! 🙏💚