What stage are you at?

Introduce Yourself
1

I’ve been thinking about how different this experience is depending on where you are in it. When I was newly alienated, I was in pure survival mode — trying to make sense of what was happening while simultaneously fighting in court, managing my finances, and holding down a job. I had no mental space for anything beyond getting through the next day.

Later, after years of legal battles and three rounds of false accusations that were all eventually dismissed, I entered a different phase entirely. The fight was over. My children had told me they didn’t want to see me. And I had to learn how to live with a child-shaped hole in my life — not because I gave up on them, but because forcing contact was causing them more harm.

That’s a very different kind of pain than the early shock. And it requires very different tools.

Here’s roughly how I see the stages — though they’re not linear and you will move between them:

Newly alienated — Your world just collapsed. Everything feels surreal. You might not even have words for what’s happening yet. I remember the confusion of those early years — knowing something was deeply wrong but having no framework to understand it.

In legal process — You’re fighting in court, dealing with social services, navigating a system that wasn’t designed for what you’re going through. I spent years here. The financial and emotional toll was immense.

Long-term estranged — Months or years of no meaningful contact. You’ve had to find ways to survive while still loving them fiercely. This is where I spent the longest, and where the deepest inner work happened.

Reconnecting — Contact is happening again, but it’s fragile. Nothing is guaranteed.

Reconnected — You have a genuine relationship again. It might not be what it was before, but it’s real.

Where are you right now? And if you’ve moved between stages, what was that transition like? I think naming where we are helps us find the right support — and the right company.

Malcolm

2

Same boat here - somewhere between long-term-estranged and reconnecting after my daughter reached out last month. The hope really is harder than the despair sometimes.

3

This is so spot on Malcolm. I’m definitely long-term-estranged and have been for four years now. My twins were 7 when everything went sideways, they’re 11 now. The bit about learning to live with a child-sized hole - except in my case it’s two child-sized holes - that really got me.

I keep thinking I see glimpses of them around Sydney but it’s never actually them, just kids who have their laugh or the way one of them used to scrunch their nose when they were thinking. The worst part is I don’t even know if they remember our silly Sunday morning pancake fights or how they’d both try to steal the remote at the same time. Four years is such a long time in kid-years.

I’m holding onto hope that they’ll reach out when they’re older like Emma did with you. That’s amazing by the way - 17 is old enough to really think for herself. Fingers crossed for you both.

4

This really hits home, Malcolm. I’ve been sitting here reading your post twice because it captures something I’ve struggled to put into words for ages.

I’m definitely in the reconnecting stage, and mate, you’re so right about the hope being almost harder than the despair sometimes. My daughter Sophie found me on Instagram about eight months ago when she turned 17 — just sent me a direct message out of the blue saying “Dad?” and I nearly dropped my phone in the pub car park. We’ve been having these careful, tentative conversations ever since, and every single one feels like I’m walking on glass. The other day she told me about her HSC subjects and laughed at something I said, and I felt this rush of joy followed immediately by panic — like, what if I say the wrong thing next time? What if this fragile thing we’re building just… breaks?

The weird thing is how different she is now. She’s not my little girl anymore, obviously, but it’s more than that. She’s got her own opinions about everything, her own sense of humour, and sometimes I catch glimpses of who she might have been if we’d never lost those years. Other times there are these awkward silences where we’re both trying to figure out how to be father and daughter again. I keep reminding myself not to rush it, not to try and cram four years of conversations into every text message, but bloody hell it’s hard.

Your point about these not being linear really resonates. I think I’m learning that reconnecting isn’t a destination — it’s something you have to keep choosing, every conversation at a time.

5

This is so spot-on, Malcolm. I’m deep in that in-legal-process stage and have been for over two years now. Three court hearings down, and honestly? I feel like I’m living in some alternate reality where up is down and truth is optional.

My ex made false allegations against me — I still can’t even type the specifics without my hands shaking — and suddenly my two kids, ages 8 and 11, think their mom is dangerous. The court-appointed guardian ad litem keeps saying she needs “more time to investigate” while my babies are being poisoned against me every single day. I’ve spent $80k I didn’t have on lawyers and forensic evaluators and therapists who nod sympathetically but nothing changes. The system moves at glacial pace while alienation moves at warp speed.

What you said about these stages not being linear — God, yes. I thought I was getting somewhere last spring when the judge ordered supervised visits, then my ex filed another motion claiming I violated some microscopic detail of the order. Back to square one, except now I’m broker and more exhausted. Some days I feel newly-alienated all over again, like I’m just discovering the scope of what’s been done to my family. Other days I catch myself already grieving like they’re gone forever, which terrifies me because they’re not. They can’t be.

Your reconnection with Emma gives me hope though. Seventeen is old enough to think for herself.