Parental Alienation Explained: Why It Happens and How It Hurts

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How and Why Parental Alienation Happens

Parental alienation is a painful and complex issue, often cloaked in confusion and intense emotion. For anyone who's been on the receiving end of it, it can feel like waking up in a world that no longer makes sense, where the child you love seems to have turned against you without warning and the bond you once shared has been eroded by something you can’t quite name. That ache is deep and it’s valid. This isn’t about blaming or pointing fingers; this is about compassionately exploring how alienation happens, why it takes root, and the systems of pain that often sit beneath it.

At its core parental alienation is when a child becomes aligned with one parent and rejects the other without legitimate justification. That doesn’t mean the rejected parent is perfect. No one is. But what makes alienation different from a child naturally pulling away due to conflict or distance is the influence, sometimes subtle, sometimes overt, of one parent’s attitudes and behaviours shaping the child’s rejection of the other. And it doesn’t happen overnight. It often begins with small things. A child overhears one parent bad-mouthing the other. A moment of frustration turns into a sigh, a comment, a roll of the eyes. It might be brushed off at the time, but the child hears it, and children, especially young ones, absorb everything. In families where separation or divorce has occurred, these dynamics can become even more charged. The pain of the separation, the feelings of betrayal, loss, and grief, all sit simmering beneath the surface. If one parent hasn’t processed these feelings, they might, consciously or unconsciously, use the child as a container for their hurt. The child, eager to stay connected, begins to mirror those feelings.

In some situations, especially where narcissistic behaviours or personality structures are involved, alienation can be more calculated. A parent may manipulate, guilt-trip, or coerce the child into siding with them. They might rewrite history, distort events, or position themselves as the victim in every story. To the child, this version of reality becomes the only version. And the other parent? They slowly become the outsider. Not just in their child’s eyes, but sometimes in the eyes of the wider family, friends, and even legal systems that don’t always know how to identify what's really going on.

That said, it’s important to remember that not all alienation stems from malicious intent. Sometimes it comes from trauma, confusion, or desperation. A parent who’s deeply hurt or afraid may lash out emotionally and find themselves unable to separate their own wounds from their role as a caregiver. They may not intend to weaponise the child, but in their pain, they do. Emotional pain that’s not processed healthily can quickly become reactive and damaging, even when the person doesn’t realise what they’re doing.

There’s also something else that doesn’t get talked about enough, especially in this particualr topic: coercive control. Alienation can sometimes form part of a larger web of controlling behaviours, especially in relationships where abuse has occurred. One parent may use the child as leverage to maintain dominance, to punish the other parent, or to assert power through influence. And because this type of control often operates in silence, behind closed doors, in whispers, in subtle shifts, it can go unnoticed until the damage is done. For the alienated parent, the experience is gut-wrenching. You’re left wondering what you did wrong, how it got to this point, and whether you’ll ever be able to mend the relationship. This pain isn’t just about missing out on milestones, it’s the grief of watching your child slip away emotionally whilst still being physically present. Or worse, being completely cut out. It’s a kind of loss that doesn’t come with a ceremony or support system. It’s isolating, shaming, and heartbreaking. This alienation, however, is not proof that you’ve failed. In fact, it often says more about the emotional dynamics at play in the environment than about who you are as a parent. This kind of breakdown doesn’t emerge from nowhere. It grows in environments where pain isn’t processed, where boundaries aren’t respected, and where emotional safety has been replaced by tension, resentment, or manipulation.

One of the hardest parts to reckon with is that children caught in the middle of alienation aren’t just being pulled away, they’re being taught something about love, trust, and safety. They’re learning that relationships are conditional, that loyalty means choosing sides, and that love must be earned or performed. That’s a heavy burden for a young mind. And it’s not their fault either. They’re doing the best they can in a confusing and emotionally loaded situation.

AI Generated Image via DALL-E

The Emotional Toll on the Alienated Parent and Child

When we talk about parental alienation, it’s easy to get lost in the practicalities, the custody battles, the court orders, the back-and-forth messaging between homes. But underneath all of that, often unspoken and unseen, lies something much heavier: the emotional weight carried by both the alienated parent and the child caught in the middle. This emotional toll is quiet and creeping. It builds over time, layer by layer, until it starts to feel like grief that has nowhere to go.

Let’s begin with the alienated parent. For many, the pain of being pushed out of their child’s life is like a form of living bereavement (a non-death grief). The child is still alive, still growing, still living, but suddenly, you’re no longer part of their world in the way you once were. You might be blocked from communication, sidelined at school events, ignored on birthdays or special occasions. You might receive cold, distant responses to messages that were once warmly received. Or worse, no response at all. And all the while, you’re left wondering what has been said about you, what story is being told behind closed doors. It's a pain that’s hard to explain to those who haven’t lived it. Because it’s not just about being separated physically, it’s about being erased emotionally. The bond that once felt so solid, so sacred, suddenly feels out of reach. It’s a disorienting kind of grief, full of doubt and guilt and longing. You start to question yourself: Did I do something wrong? Could I have prevented this? Am I making it worse by trying to fix it? The emotional toll can also stem from the helplessness of it all. When someone is actively undermining your relationship with your child, whether through subtle manipulation or outright lies, it creates a powerlessness that’s difficult to describe. You know the truth of your intentions. You know the love you hold. But you also know how easily that truth can be twisted in the mind of a child who is still learning how to make sense of the world. Alienated parents often carry a deep fear: that the longer the separation continues, the more distant the bond becomes. That fear eats away at hope. And yet, many hold on. They write letters never sent, keep photos updated in private folders, save voicemails they can’t bear to delete. They wait, for the day the door might open again, even a crack.

Now let’s take a look at the child. The child who has, through no fault of their own, been placed in a position where loyalty becomes a weapon. The child who hears the sighs, the snide remarks, the subtle put-downs. The child who learns that love must be earned through allegiance to one parent, and that the cost of affection might be silence, or disapproval, or punishment if they dare to show closeness to the other. This is not love. This is emotional manipulation. And over time, it leaves a mark. Many children caught in parental alienation often develop a distorted view of relationships. They learn that love is conditional, that affection can be withdrawn as quickly as it’s given. They might feel guilt or shame for wanting a connection with the alienated parent. They might internalise false narratives about what happened in the family dynamic. And because children naturally seek to make sense of their world, they often believe the story they are told, even if it doesn’t fully match what they feel deep inside. Some children suppress their own instincts to maintain this peace. They become hyper-vigilant to one parent’s emotions, working to keep them happy, to avoid rocking the boat. In doing so, they lose touch with their own feelings, their own needs. Because of this they may struggle later in life to trust others, to set boundaries, or to form secure attachments, all shaped by the early lessons of love and loyalty being wrapped up in control.

For some children, the effects of alienation don’t show until years later, now affecting their own adult life. It might appear in therapy, or in adult relationships where trust is hard to build. It might show in fears of abandonment, or in a deep discomfort with vulnerability. The root of these challenges often lies in the early rupture, the moment when a child learned, consciously or not, that choosing one parent meant losing the other. And that’s the cruel irony of parental alienation. It doesn’t just separate a child from a parent. It separates the child from themselves. From their sense of safety. From the right to love freely. From the space to form their own opinions and emotions without interference.

Sadly, there’s no easy fix for any of this. Healing from parental alienation takes time, care, and often therapeutic support. For the alienated parent, it involves holding onto love without allowing that love to consume you with despair. It means finding ways to live your life meaningfully, even in the absence of your child, not because you’ve given up, but because you deserve peace too. For the child, healing begins when they’re finally given the emotional permission to explore their own truths. Sometimes, this comes with age and maturity. Sometimes, it comes through connection with supportive adults who help them feel safe enough to question what they’ve been told. And when that healing begins, it can be slow, confusing, and painful, but it can also be incredibly powerful.

Parental alienation leaves deep scars, but it doesn’t have to define a person forever. Love, when offered consistently and without pressure, can still find its way back in. Relationships can be rebuilt. Conversations can reopen. Trust can be nurtured again, brick by brick.

If you are an alienated parent reading this, please know that your pain is valid. Your hope is not foolish. Your efforts to show up, even when you’re pushed away, matter more than you know. And if you are someone who experienced this as a child, your confusion, anger, grief, all of it is valid too. You are allowed to make sense of your story on your own terms.