Tag: relationships

Alienation & extended Famlies

“We often talk about how alienation cuts off one relationship. But in reality the truth is, it severs an entire family line. It has no mercy as it leaves parents without their children. It also leaves grandparents sitting by their windows, flipping through old photo albums, wondering what they did to deserve this treatment.

Remembering all those bedtime hugs, the silly stories, and backyard adventures that came to such a sudden end.If you ask any alienated grandparent, they’ll likely say: “I never thought I’d ever become a stranger to the child I once held in my arms as a baby.”

Now, ask the parents, and most of them will tell you: “I never imagined my own mother or father would lose their grandchild because someone I once trusted decided to destroy everything because of me.”

The saddest part? The alienator isn’t satified with severing just one bond—they tear through entire generations. They conciously choose to rewrite the family story. They turn family closeness into distance, and loving memories into something that hurts too much to remember.

Still, both the parents and grandparents hold on. They keep the birthday cards safely tucked away in drawers. In their mind’s eye, they remember the favorite colors, or the silly sayings, and the way a child’s head once rested under their chin.

Just like the parents who still hear the words, “I love you, Dad,” or, “Don’t let me go, Mom.”

For those living through this, you know that this pain doesn’t just come and go. Instead, it follows you everywhere. Into the grocery store, where another child looks just like yours. Into every holiday season, where an empty chair sits at the table. Even into your nightly dreams, where the reunion plays out perfectly, until you wake up to the same numbing silence you’ve been carrying for months, and sometimes years.

Yet… we still hope. That’s what so many don’t understand. Even after all the unanswered calls, all the doors that were slammed shut on us, all the letters marked “Return to Sender,” we still hope.

We hold onto the possibility of one more chance.

One more knock on the door.

One more opportunity to say, “I never stopped loving you.”

To the alienated grandparents out there, I want to say this: You’re not forgotten. The grief you feel is real. Your love still matters. That special place you held in your grandchild’s life should never have been taken from you.To the parents who are still hanging on: Don’t ever let go.

You’re not weak for caring. You’re certainly not foolish for loving. After all, you’re a parent, and that’s what we do.

To those reading this who’ve never lived through this kind of emotional torture: Please know this kind of silence doesn’t happen by accident. It’s designed.. It’s the product of manipulation, control, and the belief that love should have limits. Maybe one day, the door will open again. Maybe a child, or a grandchild will ask the question that begins to undo all the lies that were told.”

Until then, we wait in the wings… together

✍️ David Shubert

Not who she used to be

She’s not crazy… she was abused.

She learned how to stay quiet in rooms where she should’ve been protected. She learned how to survive in love that felt more like a battlefield.

She’s not irrational…. she’s carrying pain that no one ever apologized for. The kind of pain that teaches you to question your own reality, just because someone else wanted control over it.

She’s not stupid… she was manipulated.

There’s a difference. Love-bombed, gaslit, lied to, twisted up in someone else’s brokenness. She believed words over patterns because she wanted to believe.

She was taught that love meant enduring…. so she endured. She was told it was all in her head, when really, it was all in his hands. The control, the silence, the guilt. That wasn’t stupidity. That was hope…. weaponized.

She’s not shy… she’s protecting herself.

She doesn’t trust easily anymore. She’s guarded, not because she wants to be cold, but because warmth once betrayed her. She’s quiet because her voice was once ignored. She’s observing, calculating, studying who is safe and who just pretends to be. Her silence is her shield…. not her flaw.

She’s not bitter… she’s speaking the truth.

Calling out what happened isn’t bitterness. It’s bravery. Naming the pain is healing. Holding people accountable is not holding onto hate… it’s refusing to sugarcoat the damage.

She’s not angry, she’s awake. And she’s done shrinking herself to make other people comfortable with their own wrongdoings. She’s not stuck in the past… she’s been damaged.

Trauma doesn’t live on a calendar. Healing isn’t linear. Sometimes the memory of pain walks right back into her day, uninvited. She’s not “dwelling,” she’s rebuilding. You can’t rush a heart back to wholeness. Not when it was shattered by the very hands that once held it.

She’s not delusional… she lived a nightmare.

The kind of nightmare that smiles in public and destroys you in private. The kind that no one believed because he looked charming and she looked tired. She’s not exaggerating…. she endured. She’s not dramatic…. she survived.

She’s not weak… she was trusting.

She gave people the benefit of the doubt. She believed love was enough. She forgave more than she should’ve, stayed longer than she deserved to, and loved harder than she was loved in return. That’s not weakness…. that’s humanity. She wore her heart on her sleeve in a world that keeps trying to rip it off.

She’s not giving up…

She’s healing. 💜

And that healing? It’s messy. It’s loud sometimes, and silent at others. It looks like pulling back. It looks like losing friends. It looks like crying in the shower and smiling at strangers. But it’s real. And it’s happening.

So don’t mislabel her process. Don’t mistake her silence for surrender or her tears for defeat. She’s not broken…. she’s becoming. Stronger. Softer. Smarter. Wiser. Louder. More careful. More powerful.

She’s not who she used to be… and that’s a good thing.