Tag Archives: art

Poetry Corner – A Family Divide

Source: Poetry Corner – A Family Divide

As Mother sits in the corner, cries
We all try to hide in lies…

click above to read the entire poem


When A Song Breaks Your Heart and Time Makes You LOVE IT


I am the “Momma” in this song.

The first time I heard it I felt like I had been kicked in the gut. It hurt…

Since then, due a lot to counseling and input from friends who’s parents divorced, I have come to view this song not as an attempt to hurt anyone, but instead I can simply appreciate the song for what it is; beautiful like the person who wrote it.

Momma a3579273866_2 From “Not A Hipster”

License copyright 2013 wanda june wesolowski all rights reserved


“Baby girl, you’d better call your momma tonight
Baby girl, tell your momma that you’re doing alright”

I don’t know where to go from here, I
Haven’t seen momma in a year
Why can’t she see I don’t wanna
Hear it, not tonight?

“Baby girl, your momma bought you something today.”
“Baby girl, don’t you have something that you wanna say?”

I don’t know if I can thank you for
Trying to make up after losing that War
Momma, buying love won’t fix us, not tonight

And I know you’re trying so hard
All the gifts & all the birthday cards
Momma, you just need to give me time to think
To grow
To blink
And know

I think I’d better call my momma tonight….

Released 01 August 2013
Tags: Parental Alienation syndrome, Divorce, child abuse, PAS, folk, independent, songwriter, ukulele, madison, alabama, Huntsville
License copyright 2013 wanda june wesolowski all rights reserved

USED with Permission


Moving Forward… Going Back

Play Sweet Home Alabama

Dear Reader,

I hope you will forgive my lack of attention to this blog as of late, you see, I have been going through a serious trauma completely unrelated to the subject of this blog.  After months of counselling and reliving a part of my life I wanted to bury deep, I finally see light at the end of that tunnel.  So as I near the end of that journey I am relieved and I am feeling so much better about EVERYTHING! I can’t tell you about it yet, maybe never will, yet I will say this, your past can’t be buried it must be faced and dealt with.  If you can face things rather forgotten, it is like being set free. It is like a second chance at happiness.

And now onto my Blog on Parental Alienation and Healing…


  Let me start by recalling a dream I’ve had twice this month. Such a weird dream I have no idea what to make of it.  In the dream, Jill, my kids stepmother, is patiently and kindly, sitting next to me trying to teach me to play Vivaldi on a beautiful, shiny black, grand piano. We are both smiling, we seem happy, we seem like true friends, maybe even family. Her playing is superb and I simply love it. She has given me 3 keys to play and nods when I am meant to play them.  Together we play, together we enjoy music.   That is it; that’s the whole dream.

If any of you expert dream interpreters out there can give me your opinion of this repeated dream, I am all ears.

  Moving on

My daughter Libby is due to bring forth my 3rd grandchild in July. So far this will be the only grandchild I have even met.  I have been not only invited to be there, but told explicitly that I am wanted in the labor and delivery room.

To me this seems only fair for me to be in that room with Libby because of what happened when she attended my prenatal appointment back in 1995, when I was pregnant with her sister Wanda.  Back then she certainly got the up-close view of my pregnant reproductive parts and then some.

You see, I was at the OB/GYN and little Libby was sitting in the chair next to the door when my very English (as in Great Britain) doc came into the room in a flurry as was her style.
I was naked under paper garments, I was lying on the table feet in stirrups, and a paper sheet blocked my view of all activity below my waist.  The Doc asked me the usual questions, “How’s everything?…” and then she asked “Is it okay with you if your daughter is here for the exam?”

“Of course” I replied, my eyes fixed on the fluorescent light fixture in the ceiling.  “Okay” she said somewhat under her breath, as she proceeded to insert the speculum into my vagina.

Next thing I know I hear her talking softly and explaining… ‘this is where babies come from’, and ‘I’m just checking to see if everything with your mommy is alright’. Then I felt the tiny finger press on something reserved only for my husband and I realized that my sweet, always calm, obedient, capable of sitting still for 5 minutes, daughter (can you feel the sarcasm?)  Libby, had popped up when the doc entered and proceeded to observe and participate in my full exam.

I pretended it was normal (ha ha ha!); further I believe the Doc was glad to deviate from her solo routine of pregnant vulva inspections. Needless to say this visit to the Doc’ became one of those things I will never forget.

So I am Alabama bound in July.

I wish I could calmly state that going back has no emotional attachment, other than the excitement over the bringing of a new life into this world, but in fact I am bombarded with anticipatory emotions, pummelled with quite possibly irrational emotions and made up scenarios in which I once again am made the odd man out.

Oh don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.  Even if it means I have to hear one or more of my other children say something heartbreaking, or face a Jill who would rather drop a piano on my head than teach me to play it (Not saying that she would, just hoping she won’t).

So the excitement builds as the due date is just about a month out.

Pray for me, Dear readers.  Pray all is well for my grandchildren (every one of them), pray for my family and all of it’s new members.

Thanks for reading,

Much Love to All!


“Please Don’t Tell Me What I’m Doing Wrong” by Another Mom Suffering Parental Alienation

Feel our pain

"Please Don't Tell Me What I'm Doing Wrong" by Another Mom Suffering Parental Alienation.

Parental Alienation in Music, Movies,Art & Literature

My Ears Hear Music Differently Now…

I believe this is because throughout my life, during my lowest times, it has always been music that sustained me. Music was the only thing I ever felt I could fully rely upon for support when I was grounded to my bedroom for a month; when I was in an uncertain or extremely stressful situation; when I was praising God in the choir; when I first really “made out” with someone; when I fell in love and when that fell apart, there was always a song in my heart. Now I actually find ways to fit lyrics to my pain. So I listen to music with my heart-break effecting my ears and find myself personalizing and redefining the meanings within.
I suppose we all do that. You can ask ten people what the meaning of a song or poem is and you will likely get ten different answers. (I think this is what angered me so in my college English courses; teachers want to assign definite, rigid meaning to a writers words, not allowing a reader to personalize the subject matter. In my opinion this is no way to experience any art). I recall a discussion I had late at night with my former spouse. He told me he received a poor grade in a literature class for not “realizing” a poem called (?)(I think) “Naming of the Parts” was about sex. He said the poem was about taking apart a firearm. I digress, my point is that it is normal to try to apply the meaning of art to something within the individual audience members experience. So now, everywhere I go I am reminded of the pain of my divorce in places where no painful memories or emotions existed before.
Pink Floyd has always been one of my favorite bands. I could listen to them all day. Here is an excerpt from “Two Suns in the Sunset” from “The Final Cut” album.
Like the moment when the brakes lock 

And you slide towards the big truck

”Oh no!” 
”[scream] Daddy, Daddy!” 

You stretch the frozen moments with your fear.

And you’ll never hear their voices

And you’ll never see their faces 

You have no recourse to the law anymore. 

And as the windshield melts 
My tears evaporate 

Leaving only charcoal to defend. 

Finally I understand the feelings of the few. 

Ashes and diamonds 

Foe and friend 

We were all equal in the end.

I used to think these words were about death in an automobile collision, now I think the wreck is a failed marriage and the loss of “two Suns” feels like death. Much like the loss of my 4 kids feels like a quadruple homicide in which their once deep love for me has been cut out like my beating heart.

In movies I can give you a prime example of a meaning changed for me forever. The Tom Cruise version of “War of the Worlds” to me has become a metaphor of a family struggling to work out custody, a step-father, a rebellious teenager and a helpless little girl are all issues faced by the Cruise father figure. His arrival at the home he once shared with his wife and children is so descriptive of the divorced home; an airliner has crashed into it nearly obliterating any resemblance of the home’s prior comfort, desperate, he is forced to spend the night there with his confused, scared, saddened children…

So you see, divorce, especially one as terrible as mine, changes your view of so much…
Leah Talley