If December feels like emotional whiplash, you are not imagining it. Survivors already carry the weight of trauma, uncertainty, and fear. The holiday season adds pressure from every direction. Court dates often land in December. Visitation conflict escalates. Financial stress increases. Memories resurface. The world expects joy while survivors fight to stay afloat. No one is meant to carry this much at once.

Every year, as the holidays roll in, the narcissist begins to unravel. It starts quietly. Decorations appear in stores. Families talk about plans. Children begin to feel excitement. Without warning, the narcissist begins the slow but predictable slide into chaos. If you have ever wondered why December feels like living inside a pressure cooker, there is a reason. The holidays threaten the narcissist at a core level. They do not have the capacity to experience connection in authentic ways. They do not feel the warmth that the rest of the world seems to swim in. They know it. Every reminder of joy, love, bonding, and family is a reminder of what they cannot access.

We cannot talk about the family court crisis without talking about the alienation industry. This industry has become deeply embedded in family court culture, and children are paying the price every single day. It thrives when children are not believed. It profits when abuse is reframed as coaching or alienation.

When I created Family Court Awareness Month, it came from one simple truth: there is no one size fits all approach to the family court crisis. Every story is unique, but the patterns are painfully familiar.

When I left my marriage, I knew I was breaking a cycle of abuse. What I did not understand yet was that I was also beginning to make new cycles. Healthy cycles. Brave cycles. Patterns of truth, safety, and boundaries that my children could stand on long after the courtroom lights went dark.

If you are standing at the beginning of this process, I want to reach you before the system begins to gaslight you the way your abuser once did. When we first leave an abusive relationship, we are in a fog. The fog slowly lifts as healing begins, but family court can pull you right back into another kind of distorted reality, the same but different.

Your strength begins when you get clear about what you can control and what you cannot. You cannot control a judge’s understanding of abuse, or their lack of care about abuse dynamics. You cannot change the fact that we are in a system that prioritizes parental rights over child safety. You cannot control the bias or carelessness of certain professionals.

One issue in particular became impossible for me to ignore: protective parents in family court losing custody simply because they tried to shield their children from abuse. Instead of being recognized as protectors, they were branded as “alienators.” The proposed “solution” was often forced reunification programs—an inhumane and deeply profitable industry built on the suffering of families. The underlying concept of “parental alienation” has been widely discredited and lacks any empirical, peer-reviewed research to support it. Speaking out about this exploitation has come at a cost threats, harassment, and attacks on my character and my family have been a constant part of this journey.

Smear campaigns are one of the most destructive tactics of post separation abuse. They don’t just target one person. They are designed to isolate, silence, and intimidate entire communities of survivors and advocates.

I know this because I live it. Fathers rights groups and those profiting from the “alienation” industry have launched coordinated attacks against me and other trusted advocates who expose collusion, corruption, and family court failures. Their goal is clear: destroy credibility, rattle confidence, and make us afraid to speak.

When a parent raises an allegation of abuse, the court places the burden of proof on their shoulders. Proving abuse in a custody setting is incredibly difficult. Most abuse allegations are dismissed for lack of proof. A child’s disclosure is rarely taken seriously; it is brushed off as hearsay.

On the other hand, when one parent accuses the other of coaching or “alienation,” the dynamic shifts entirely. That claim is not treated with the same skepticism. Instead, it takes on a life of its own. Once the idea is planted, it is almost impossible to eradicate. The accusing parent’s word is given enormous weight, even without evidence.

How can I encourage my child to speak up and advocate for themselves?

It’s a fair question. We all want our children to be strong and confident and to feel like their voices matter. There’s an uncomfortable truth here: sometimes it isn’t safe for them to do so.

The little girls you tuck into bed each night need you to remember something important. They do not need a perfect mother. They need a present mother. They need a mom who listens, who validates their feelings, and who teaches them that they are seen and safe, even when the world feels unsafe.

When my daughters were very young, we created rituals together. Each morning before school, we chose words to carry with us into the day, simple affirmations that reminded us we were seen, we were strong, and we were not alone. To anyone on the outside, it may have looked like a small thing, but inside our little family it was everything.

I didn't understand that family court is not built to recognize abuse that doesn't leave a visible bruise (sometimes, that doesn't even seem to matter). I didn't know that coercive control, manipulation, and emotional abuse are often invisible to the system. I didn't know that strategy would matter more than truth. I didn't yet understand that I was walking into a long game that would require more grit, clarity, and restraint than I ever thought I had.

I’m not someone who seeks conflict. I lose sleep over it. I went into this separation hoping for civility. The reality, however, was that you cannot co-parent with someone whose goal is not the well-being of the children. You cannot co-parent with someone who uses the court system to punish and control. You cannot co-parent with an abuser.

We often assume that having money means having power and protection but in family court, that’s not always the case. In this deeply personal reflection, I share how losing everything; my home, my marriage, and my financial security, ultimately spared me from a system that profits off the pain of families with resources.

I check my weather app often. It doesn’t promise perfection, but it usually offers enough of a heads-up to make smart decisions…whether to grab an umbrella, cancel a hike, or brace for a storm. I don’t expect certainty. I expect a forecast.

Profiling a narcissist is much the same.

In high-conflict custody battles, confusion can be dangerous. Narcissists are rarely chaotic by accident. Their behaviors follow patterns, even if, on the surface, they feel unpredictable.

Narcissistic abusers are notorious for draining victims of self-esteem and positive self-image.

Across Arizona, a growing coalition of protective parents is refusing to stay silent about the failures of the family court system. These survivors have joined together to form the Arizona Safe Parents Organization (ASPO)—a new advocacy group working to reform laws and shift priorities from parental rights to child safety. I had the opportunity to sit down with ASPO to learn more about who they are, how they got started, and where they’re headed. What follows is their story—in their own words.

Many people in this community know exactly what it is to sit awake at night longing for an apology from someone who hurt you deeply. It is one of the most human things we can want, validation that what happened was wrong, acknowledgment that it was not our fault, hope that maybe it will never happen again.