A Story of Forced Parental Alienation | The Glass House Girls
Fighting for my Children
Counting The Days… 989, the number of days as of 29th March 2016 since I spent the day with my children. I say ‘day’ because I was graciously allowed by my ex to see them for one hour in 2014, which was the last time I saw them. Prior to that it was an afternoon in July 2013.
The thirteenth of February 2005 at 01:04am and the thirtieth of July 2010 at 09:58am, are two of the proudest moments of my life thus far and the birth dates of my two children, Benjamin and Abigail (or Abigirl as she will always be known to me after her then five year old brother mispronounced her name at birth!).
I don’t really remember the presents I bought them, the expensive holidays, the theme parks or material things. I remember bedtime stories and bath times. I recall the feeling of comforting my children when they were poorly. That immense and over-exaggerated sense of pride when they took their first single steps and spoke their first words. Those moments mean more than any amount of money we spent on holidays or plastic toys. They are moments you can’t take back or replicate.
I was there for all those memories; they are imprinted on my mind like videos. I have to cling on to those memories, those videos in my mind – because four and half years ago my marriage broke down (not completely out of the blue, we had been having issues for quite some time) and I am now a part of society that is overlooked by an antiquated family law system; one that is based on prehistoric thinking and no real legal support for those who need it most.
I am, what some choose to call, an ‘absent father’.