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"Please Do Not Tell Me What I am Doing Wrong" by a Protective Mom Suffering Maternal Alien

“Please Don’t Tell Me What I’m Doing Wrong”

by Another Mom Suffering Maternal Alienation

Dedicated to Mothers of Lost Children - by Asha Bas, Who Granted Permission to Share her poem in Hopes That “Others Will Know They Are Not Alone” - June 2013

I’m in a living nightmare Something deeply precious was stolen I’m in ongoing grief and despair Unbidden tears awash again and again

Never any idea what to do, or what to say Everything is used against me, the rules are unfair Forlorn, how to get out I see no way But I have to stay strong and I have to beware

It would be easier to give up, to let go

Easier to close down completely But the future I cannot know Behind closed doors I do not see

So I fight against the abuse and lies

Ever continue to stand up for what is right My grief I cannot continuously disguise Sometimes my words come out with a bite

But my words come out, which can be quite hard

Though I’m afraid, I can move and walk around I’m not an actor, a social person, or a bard Sometimes my mouth has opened with no sound

Please don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong

I already know and I berate myself enough as it is My treasures were stolen and I do not belong My family torn asunder with a crushing deadly kiss

I cannot concern myself with little people in this game

Who may or may not be playing behind the scenes Aloof and careful, I must treat everyone as the same To the abuser, it is clear that the end justifies the means

I do not know who to trust and my choices are few

I have limited knowledge and little experience I’m more likely to trust, to see the good in you I have learnt that I perhaps should not take that chance

If I let my guard down I may lose even more

Years , time, freedom that may never be recalled The hurtful slander that sticks I abhor With their increasing power I am appalled

It crushes the spirits and wearies the very soul

The years and lies drag on with no end in sight With my heart ripped out, I am not whole So be thankful I can speak, even if i do bite

And remember that a dog bites because it is afraid

Afraid of the unknown, and often of what they have learned With no choices and no idea, I go where I am bade Hindsight has taught me, with trust I have been burned

Please don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong

Be impressed, instead, that against the odds I’m still here! I’m staying in this nightmare and hanging on

Despite the impossible odds and the unending fear!

Related Articles:

Vengeful Father Syndrome by Melissa Barnett

"I have spent long hours trying to make some sense of my life and have come to the conclusion that when horror overcomes us the only response possible is to remember what happened and tell the story." - Coral Anika Theill, Bonshea Making Light of the Dark

"On March 10, 1996, I was forced, by an Order of the Court, and by my ex-husband, his attorney, his family and religious supporters, to do something that raged against my good conscience, my common sense and against all my motherly instincts. After a temporary custody hearing, a Court Order signed by Judge Albin Norblad forcibly removed my nursing baby and two youngest children from me. I obeyed the Court Order and gave my children over to my ex-husband. I drove to the hospital, rented a breast-pump and later collapsed and went into shock. I could not understand what had happened and why. I have not yet recovered from the shock; perhaps I never will...."

"The price for my own safety and freedom in 1996 was an imposed, unnatural and unwanted separation from my eight children. The injustice committed against me is not just the physical separation from my children, but the willful desecration of the mother-child relationship and bond, a sacred spiritual and emotional entity.

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