The cursor was blinking at 2:47am and I’d typed in “my children won’t speak to me” for probably the hundredth time that month. February nights are the worst somehow — too quiet, too much time to think.
I was scrolling through the usual unhelpful advice about “give them space” and “children are resilient” when someone in a random forum mentioned this place. Love Over Exile. The name alone made me cry, which probably sounds ridiculous but there it was. Someone understood that this feels like being cast out from your own life.
Four years since I’ve held them. Four years since my ex convinced them I was the problem, that everything wrong in their world was my fault. The courts bought his version of events — I was “unstable,” apparently. Fighting for your children is called instability now.
I’d been keeping a journal since the beginning, documenting everything like everyone says to do. Pages and pages of dates and times and what was said. Evidence that nobody wanted to see. But writing here feels different. Less like building a legal case, more like… existing as a human being who loves two children desperately.
My therapist, Helen, keeps saying I need community. “You can’t do this alone, Sarah.” But how do you explain parental alienation to people whose biggest parenting worry is screen time? How do you say “my children have been taught to hate me” without sounding completely mad?
So here I am. Still awake at ridiculous hours, but at least I’m not alone with it anymore.
I’m curious — what brought you to this corner of the internet? Was it a late-night spiral like mine, or did you find this place some other way? Sometimes I wonder if we all end up here the same way. Desperate. Googling things we never imagined we’d need to Google.
Man, Sarah. That 2:47am thing hits different, doesn’t it? I’ve been in that exact spot so many times I could probably navigate to this forum blindfolded at this point. Mine was usually around 3am though, sitting in my kitchen in Houston after another day of radio silence from my kids.
I found this place about eight months ago when I was spiraling pretty hard after my ex successfully got supervised visitation ordered. My lawyer had just told me the kids — Emma’s 12, Jake’s 9, and little Sophie just turned 6 — had told the court-appointed psychologist they were “scared” of me. Scared. Of their dad who taught them to ride bikes and made pancakes every Saturday morning for seven years. The same dad who never raised his voice, never missed a soccer game, never did anything but love them with everything I had. But somehow their mom’s version of me — this angry, unstable guy — became their reality.
I was googling stuff like “children suddenly hate father” and “court believes lying ex-wife” which sounds pathetic now but felt desperate then. Someone in a custody forum mentioned Love Over Exile and said it wasn’t like other support groups where people just vent and leave. They said people here actually get it — the specific kind of grief that comes with your own children looking at you like you’re a stranger. Or worse, like you’re dangerous.
Been documenting everything for two years now. Court dates, missed calls, screenshots of blocked numbers. My lawyer says we’re building a solid case for modification but some days it feels like shouting into the void. At least here I can shout and people understand why.
This is so familiar it breaks my heart. I found this place exactly the same way — 3am searching, that hollow feeling of typing the same desperate words into Google over and over.
For me it was “waarom haten mijn kinderen mij” in Dutch first, then switching to English because there’s more out there in English. Six years of silence, Sarah. Six years of that special kind of hell where everyone thinks you must have done something terrible, otherwise why wouldn’t your children want to see you?
Like you, I had binders full of documentation. Text messages, emails, reports from the Raad van de Kinderbescherming. All of it sitting in a box now because my eldest finally called three months ago. Just like that, out of nowhere. His voice so deep I didn’t recognize it at first.
I’m taking it one conversation at a time, trying not to push, trying not to make up for six lost years in every phone call. But God, Sarah, to hear him say “papa” again…
You’re not mad. And you’re definitely not alone anymore.
God, those 2am Google searches. I’ve worn out that exact phrase and about fifty variations of it. “Why won’t my daughter talk to me,” “child refuses visitation,” “what is parental alienation” — the search history of heartbreak.
I found this place about eight months ago during one of those sleepless nights. My ex had just filed another motion to reduce my time with Emma (she’s 9), and I was spiraling hard. Someone on Reddit mentioned Love Over Exile and I thought the same thing — finally, a name that gets it. We really are in exile from our own children’s lives.
The court thing is so maddening. I’m in California too and these judges move like molasses while your kid’s childhood just… disappears. My lawyer keeps saying “document everything” like I haven’t been doing that for three years. But you’re right, writing here feels different. Less evidence-gathering, more like remembering I’m still a mom even when I can’t mother.
Welcome, Sarah. The 2am club is unfortunately pretty active here.