“The sun is our second symbol of rebirth…” ~ Joseph Campbell
Have you ever heard the expression, “fake it until you make it”? It perfectly describes the feeling of wearing a mask to get through a tough time.
For too long, I didn’t have the language for what I was carrying. After leaving an unhealthy marriage, I found myself in an unimaginable space. My daughter, one of the people I love most in this world, was being used as a weapon against me. The bond we shared, our mother-daughter bond, became the very thing leveraged to cause harm. And in that process, she was harmed, too.
I tried bargaining. I tried pleading. At the same time, I reached out for help, only to encounter a lack of public awareness and understanding, and sometimes, indifference and resistance. I felt utterly alone, and yet I still had to keep showing up in daily life.
So I did what so many targeted mothers do. I put on a mask.
In the last post, The Mask and The Journey, I wrote about an alienated child’s mask, where it comes from, what it costs them, and how it may come off one day. I wrote about holding the door open and refusing to stop believing in the child who lives behind their mask. What I haven’t shared yet is the story of another mask. The targeted mother’s mask. It, too, is powerful and protective.
If you’re a targeted mother, you’re likely wearing it right now.
You may recognize the scenario in yourself, even if you haven’t named it: the version of you that says, “I’m fine” and “I’m doing okay,” when the truth is that you haven’t slept well in months. The version of you that has become so skilled at compartmentalizing that sometimes you even forget, for a moment, what is happening. And when you remember, it hits like a heavy stone upon your chest. The desperation and sorrow run deep, and the uncontrollable tears flow seemingly unending.
I know this version. I lived as her for a long time.
The late American author, educator, and mythologist Joseph Campbell wrote that the mask conceals and reveals. For targeted mothers, that is precisely the tension: the outward performance of “I’m fine” conceals inner suffering by revealing your inner strength. It keeps you functioning, especially in a world that cannot relate to what you are carrying.
But Campbell knew something else, too, that masks worn too long begin to be mistaken for the authentic face. You may go on long enough until one day you struggle to find the woman behind the mask. Please consider that truth as a gentle tap on your shoulder.
There is wonderful magic in the masks made to keep going. Yet at some point, we need to confront the hard stuff in front of us and within us. The mask serves a purpose, but it cannot stay in place forever.
“Your sacred space is where you can find yourself again.” ~ Joseph Campbell
There are many moments when the intense grief of this ambiguous loss feels unbearable, and the feelings of desperation and frustration surface in overwhelming ways. You may find yourself repeatedly trying to be heard, only to be met with a lack of understanding, or worse, minimization. You know the moments well. People may say things like, “Give it time, they’ll come back around.” You hear this from family, friends, even legal and mental health professionals, and you feel the weight of a struggle that is nearly impossible to describe to anyone who hasn’t lived it.
Too often, even skilled professionals don’t seem to fully understand, because there remains a significant lack of parental alienation awareness and understanding that this can be a domestic violence tactic used post-separation, involving child psychological abuse and coercive control.
Beneath the mask lives a grieving mother without her own permission to fully fall apart. Your child is alive, and yet there is a locked steel door between you, and that too many people cannot fully see or name. Concealed grief gathers. And what gathers beside it is desperation, frustration, and your outward displays of what may be described by the experts as a trauma response.
I carried all of this. The mask that said “I’m fine,” “I am managing,” and “I’m okay.” It was costing me more than I could afford to keep paying. It was costing me myself.
Campbell shared that the aim of the inner journey is to move through the difficult time and then to set the mask down with gratitude for what it carried for you.
I found necessary healing spaces, in person and in online communities, that helped me help myself again. There is something incredibly powerful in being among people who understand through a shared lived experience and can name and validate what you are feeling. Slowly, I began to regain my footing, and I continue to work on myself every day. I remain faithful that the bond and love my daughter and I authentically share is strong. I remain hopeful it will bring her back around when she feels safe and is ready.
A targeted mother’s inner work is not separate from the work of loving her alienated child. It is the heart of it. When your child is ready, they will need you to be emotionally grounded, you, their mother, who has been working on returning to her authentic self. You will need to be safe and solid enough to receive them.
Make an honest assessment of yourself. Do the necessary work on yourself. Find your courage and self-agency. This isn’t to blame yourself for others’ actions. Rather, this is your healing journey, one of understanding and empowerment.
This post is shared with tenderness for the targeted mothers doing their best to hold it together on the outside while carrying this weight on the inside. The mask serves you, and be grateful for it. Yet through the transformative work of self-healing, something much more important awaits on the other side.
I am a targeted mother sharing my lived experience. I am not an expert, credentialled professional working in this space.
With heartfelt care,
A mom in Maine
Read the companion post: The Mask and The Journey.
Further Reading:
Joseph Campbell, A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living, ed. Diane K. Osbon (HarperCollins, 1991)
Alienated Maine 
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