The Conversations I Never Got to Have

I remember in the early years of going through the world of alienation, there were definitely moments when the anger inside me was so intense that it was almost like I was going to explode. The raw emotional pain I felt, the helplessness, and even the unanswered questions—they all kept building with no place to go.

Like most people, I had to find a way to vent—to scream at the top of my lungs, even confront the one person who had put me in this position in the first place: my alienator. But unfortunately the physical distance between the two of us made that virtually impossible. Phone calls were a waste of time because they always went unanswered. Messages were were much the same. Everything I sent was met with utter silence.

And that silence I was met with… let’s just say that it changed me.

As the months passed, the anger I felt inside kept building. And the thing is—this whole situation wasn’t just about my alienator. The pain I was feeling wasn’t being caused by just one person. Instead it extended to all of the enablers who were part of this picture—the family and friends who stood by and wouldn’t lift a finger to ease the situation, or worse, those who added fuel the ever growing fire. And then you have people like the Judge in my case who held the power to make things better, but instead made them worse, who turned a blind eye while I was being erased.

Back then, there was a lot of things I wanted to say to each of them—and still do. I had so many words at the ready command, but I never even got a chance to speak them… at least not face to face.

So, I did what my emotional survival required of me.

I had heart to heart conversations with each of them. Albeit not real ones, but rather imagined ones that only I knew about.

Sometimes I yelled at them. I even pleaded. Other times I just asked the simple question: “Why?”Why would you do this to me and my kids? Why would you tear me out of my children’s lives like I meant nothing to them? Why didn’t you stand up for what you knew was right?

I knew I wasn’t ever going to get an answer from them or even a non-verbal response. After all I wasn’t exactly that crazy—I knew they weren’t physically there. But somehow I realized that holding everything inside me wasn’t the healthiest thing to do. And when the rage and frustration had no outlet, these imaginary conversations gave me the only way to release them.

Oddly enough, the talks I was having with my alienator and the others, actually helped me. Not permanently—but just long enough to keep me from imploding.In doing so, I could finally breathe again, even if it was for just a little while.

That said, if we’re all being honest, most of us would have to admit to having these types of conversations more often than we’d ever care to say out loud. Maybe it’s because we’re too afraid that people won’t understand us. Perhaps we’re worried that it’ll make us look just a tad bit unstable. But remember, it’s not so much about being crazy—it’s about opening a release valve when there’s no safe place to unload the pain we keep bottled up inside.

For the most part, it’s a psychological pressure valve that we’re able to control ourselves. An emotional survival tool per se. And I suppose when you get right down to it, it’s the only way we can ask the burning questions when we’re not allowed to speak directly to the people who caused our suffering.

Now, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t careful about where I had these one-sided conversations. After all, walking around your neighborhood while muttering to yourself tends to get you some awful strange looks—and I really didn’t feel the need to have someone calling for a wellness check on me all because they thought I’d finally snapped.

So at the end of the day, if you’re a parent who’s lived through the crisis of alienation, I’m sure you understand what I’m talking about.

Perhaps you’ve even had those same imaginary conversations yourself—when you were alone on long drives, quiet walks, or during those restless nights. Maybe you’ve shouted into the wind, or broke down crying in the shower, or even mouthed those silent words to a photo that no one else could hear.

If you’ve done this…you’re definitely not alone.

And if you’re brave enough to admit it, then you can ask yourself a simple question—did it help you even a little bit?

David Shubert