"It takes a village to raise a child." We hear this all the time. But for many of us—especially those of us solo parenting abroad—the reality is very different. We don't have a village. So, we become the village. We try to be the mother, the father, the aunt, the uncle, and the teacher all at once. This leads to burnout—not just physical exhaustion, but mental depletion. When we are in that state of survival, it is hard to be truly present. But there is a second, harder struggle: What happens when your co-parent does have a village, but you realize that is where the dysfunction comes from? Maybe they hand the kids off to grandparents to avoid doing the work themselves. Maybe that family never broke the cycle of trauma. They might love your children in their own way, but as we know, love on that side isn't always healthy. It often comes with "traumatic traditions." The Double Burden This doubles your workload. You aren't just raising your children; you are constantly working to protect them from that toxic environment and debrief them when they return. Your Home is the Burst of Color It reminds me of a moment in The Boy with the Blue Bike. After leaving the gray, rigid neighborhood of Stonehaven, Leo describes the feeling of finally crossing back into his own safe reality: "Heading out of the neighborhood, we pass all the gray. As soon as we cross the border, we experience a burst of color. Even Chippy feels it, and it looks like he is smiling all the way home." You are that burst of color. When your children leave the "gray" of the other home and cross the border back to you, they can finally exhale. It is easy to panic and feel like the "toxic village" will ruin your children. But here is a psychological fact to ground you, The Power of ONE : The "One Stable Adult" Rule: Research from the Harvard Center on the Developing Child shows that resilience doesn't require a perfect community. The single most common factor for children who thrive despite adversity is at least one stable and committed relationship with a supportive parent.

How many of you thought the abuse would stop the moment you signed the divorce papers? I’m guessing the great majority of us have been there. Signing those papers is a massive release, but often, it doesn't end there. An abuser cannot stand losing control. In some cases, losing that legal tether makes them desperate to grab power in other ways. Their tactics often remain the same—methods that usually carry the emotional maturity of a seven-year-old. The Strategy: Chaos Manufacturing They thrive on chaos. Their best option is to throw you off your feet, rattling you so fast you don't have time to think. They bombard you with a false sense of urgency, often sprinkled with DARVO (Deny, Attack, and Reverse Victim and Offender). Your Superpower: The Pause ⏸️ When the noise gets loud, your superpower is pausing. In my book, The Boy with the Blue Bike, Leo visits a neighborhood called "Echo Ridge." It is a place so loud and chaotic that he can’t even hear himself think. But he finds a high hill, and suddenly, "It feels like this hill is an island, and there is no more noise around". You must become that island. If you don't engage immediately in their spiral, they lose. You win clarity. The narc will question why you aren't responding to the chaos they worked so hard to create. While they scramble, you get to take a breath and see their tactics for what they are. You aren't the person who fell for this in the past. You are stronger. You are a Superparent. The Science: Why it Gets Worse Before it Gets Better You mentioned they might go "kamikaze style" when you stop reacting. There is a psychological fact behind this: The Extinction Burst: In behavioral psychology, when you stop reinforcing a behavior (by refusing to give them the reaction they want), the behavior will often spike in intensity before it stops. They will flood you with noise, blame-shifting, and victimization in a desperate "burst" to force you back into the old pattern. Don't be fooled. This sudden increase in craziness isn't a sign you are losing; it is a sign your boundaries are working.

Hey Super-Parents, I’m going to be really vulnerable with you today. There is a hard truth we don’t always talk about: The abuse often doesn't stop. No matter how many therapy sessions we attend, how many retreats we go to, or how much "wellness" work we do—a narcissist remains a narcissist. They are like addicts, constantly craving the "fix" of your reaction, your validation, or your submission. For a long time, I was a shield. Then, I became a fence. Now, I have built a fortress. From the top of these walls, I can look down and see the abuser for what they really are: small. They push against the stone, they scream into the wind, and they eventually move on to a new "supply" when they realize they can’t break through. But here is the vulnerable part: Even when the walls are impenetrable, the sound still travels. Inside the castle, there is an echo. That echo hits the old wounds. It’s the phantom pain of a battle scar. It reminds us of the trauma, and for a moment, it hurts just as much as it did years ago. It’s valid to visit that place of pain—we aren't robots—but we cannot afford to live there. We are no longer immune to the pain; it just doesn't get to control the castle anymore. Why do they keep pushing even when you don't respond? Psychology tells us that when a narcissist loses control, they suffer a "Narcissistic Injury." To protect their fragile ego, they often go into an Extinction Burst—a massive escalation of abusive behavior intended to force you back into your old, reactive role. They aren't "winning" when they scream louder; they are panicking because their old tools no longer work on the "New You." The echo you feel inside is just the sound of their desperation hitting your boundaries. To release the "echo" of pain when that echo starts bouncing around inside your fortress and the old wounds start to throb, here is how you release the pressure: - Somatic Grounding (The "Shake Off"): Trauma lives in the body. When you feel that internal "tightness" from a high-conflict email or interaction, literally shake your arms and legs. It tells your nervous system that the "threat" is over and you are safe in the present.

Hey Superparents, Let's talk about the work that goes on behind the scenes. It's the work that goes beyond just parenting our children. It's the work of reparenting ourselves. We've all been there. Your child does something—they have a meltdown, spill a drink, or defy you in a specific way—and you feel an oversized reaction building inside you. It’s a trigger. As you rightly said, this isn't just a simple, in-the-moment frustration. It's a message from our past. It's our inner child, who was perhaps shamed, ignored, or punished for that exact same behavior, sending up a flare. We have to sit with that feeling, acknowledge what's going on, and do the work to release it. This process is the core of what coaches and psychologists call Reparenting. In psychology, particularly in concepts like Internal Family Systems (IFS) or the work of Dr. Nicole LePera ("The Holistic Psychologist"), this is a foundational practice. The idea is that our "Adult" self must consciously become the parent to our "Inner Child" that we always needed but never had. When we are triggered, our Inner Child is asking, "Are you going to abandon me, too? Are you going to shame me, too?" Our job, as the new, loving Adult in charge, is to pause and respond internally with the words we always needed to hear: - "I see you." - "It's okay to feel this angry/sad/scared." - "You are safe. I've got this." - "I am not going to leave you." When we practice this—when we give our own inner child compassion instead of criticism—something magical happens. We stop reacting to our past and become free to respond to our child's present. Suddenly, we find we have a deeper well of patience. We're not just trying to control our child's behavior; we're modeling what it looks like to feel a big emotion and move through it with grace. We are actively breaking the cycle in real-time. This is deep, difficult, and brave work. It is perhaps the hardest, and most important, part of being a solo parent. You're not just building a better future for your child; you're healing your past at the same time.

Hey Superparents, Ever found yourself in a rare quiet moment on the couch, and this question just lands on you: "Who am I?" At first, the answer seems easy. "I'm Lev's parent. I'm a life coach. I live in Montclair." We list our roles and our stats. But if you go deeper... Who are you really? Who are you now, after the divorce, as a single parent? You're the person who walked away from a marriage that wasn't working. The person who had to grieve a dream you once built. But you're also the person who decided to stand up for yourself and for your kids. There's a powerful shift here. The old script was, "I stayed for the kids." Our generation's new, more powerful script is, "I left for the kids." We've stopped tolerating what isn't meant for us. We're not trees. We can move. We can rebuild. This isn't just a nice idea; it's a psychological process called Post-Traumatic Growth (PTG). It's the idea that after a major life crisis (like a divorce), we don't just "bounce back." We are forced to rebuild our core beliefs and, in the process, we can develop new strengths, a deeper appreciation for life, and a stronger sense of self. This new "you" has a different perspective. This "you" has boundaries. This "you" prioritizes your well-being. This "you" is stronger. Let's Do the Work: The "Then & Now" Dynamic Let's make this real. In the comments, share your own "Then & Now" so we can cheer each other on. - THEN: (e.g., "I used to put my needs last.") - NOW: (e.g., "I am learning to schedule time for myself, guilt-free.") - THEN: (e.g., "I used to be afraid of conflict.") - NOW: (e.g., "I am a person who holds firm boundaries.") You are enough. You are worthy. And the person you are becoming is forged in strength. Congratulations, Superparent. Keep going. It's worth it.