“I’m OK! I’m alright! No, I’m not…..”

…I’m on my knees.

As a non-resident parent, I’ve had to endure years of vulnerability, dangled on the end of a fragile emotional string by a puppeteer who is fueled by self loathing, denial and unresolved issues with her own mother.

Despite court orders and Cafcass support, she simply refuses to let me co-parent our children any longer and has bullied them into no longer spending time with both their parents, simply out of selfishness and spite.

I’m tough and have broad shoulders. But for  a decade now I’ve had to talk myself into even facing each day, despite staring at an emotional tank deep into the red, mobilised only by the whiff of hope and a father’s protective instincts whispering in my ear:

“You think it’s bad for the children now but imagine their faces if they heard that you had given up”.

So I get up, I front up and I put one foot in front of the other.

I go on, ignoring the hail of distress and the storm of disappointment and despair.

Today, I made the tough decision to give away some of the childrens’ toddler toys.

They are totems of our love, imbued with happier times.

But I have hoarded too many and they deserve a better life.

A friend’s lovely little girl acknowledged the gift in the best way, with smiles and giggles of joy when she opened the simple boxes, a legacy of which my own angels would approve.

But then at the bottom of the toy box I found the equivalent of Snow White’s shiny red apple. It was an unopened message from my youngest, crafted in her unmistakable hand instantly recognisable to a Daddy who nurtured it with love.

I lifted the flap on the envelope with a heady mix of excitement and trepidation as, you see, I have been cruelly prevented from holding my baby girls in my arms for over two years now.

Unexpectedly, I was floored by four little words and a crooked line of crosses scrawled in coloured pencil on that tiny paper time machine.

Then the tears came again, as I’m not ashamed to say, they often do.

Tomorrow morning, however, I will repeat the mantra “I’m alright. I’m alright”.

But tonight….I am not!

I’m as low as it’s probably possible to be.

But I’m your Daddy, children, and for your sake, as I am sure you know, I will not let them break me!

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The Peace Not Pas Team

7 thoughts on ““I’m OK! I’m alright! No, I’m not…..”

  1. Is there a final judgment in your divorce? There’s something to be said about brokenness. It’s humbling to feel extreme sadness. I also think it gives you an inner strength that can’t be developed any other way. ❤️


  2. Chin up my friend. An emotional and heart-wrenching piece of writing. If enuf ppl cared, uderstood what PA is we wouldn’t be something akin to living in the dark ages with the general view of parental alienation.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Like you im a hoarder. I have things that my daughter has made for me but i cant even look at them as the emotions attached to them overwhelm me. But like you i carry on in the knowledge that when she is able to think for herself, she will want to know where is the man that spent time with her , loved her and remembers the funny little things that fathers and daughters share.
    Until that time , my friend, know that you are not alone. There is an army of us, who have been separated and sidelined from our children. But we are joining ranks, supporting each other in our common grief. To be separated in this way feels like a grief, not knowing or being involved in the story. But take heart. This story isnt finished and neither are we. We hear your pain and are shouting with you” i will not let this beat me, for i am your father”

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for the support. Not a good evening but I know that’s what it’s like for us all.
      And yes, we need to ensure there’s much more “pulling together”, much more.


  4. Pingback: “I’m OK! I’m alright! No, I’m not…..” — Peace Not Pas – A Forgotten father

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