Uncategorized – Fscottwrites

Strength in Numbers and A Bear in the Car

There is strength in numbers. And I gained some strength this past weekend by sharing it with 135 mothers who are estranged from their child/childern at a Mother’s Day conference for estranged mothers and grandmothers. An essay of mine was published on Story Circle Network Substack about coming to the conference, A Mother’s Gift to Myself.

I arrived late in Lake Tahoe, after driving my rental car from Reno airport in the dark, on winding roads, thankful for google maps. But google maps was no help in finding my room. There were twenty or so buildings that housed rooms set amoung pine trees. I couldn’t even find the lobby. Finally I did. The young man at the front desk was oblivious to my tear-filled, tired eyes, handed me a map saying, “just turn here and then here and then here.”

So I did, finally finding a door that said #75 but I was #75B. I wanted to cry, to crawl into a bed. I did cry as I went back to the lobby asking the oblivious young man to show me my room. In the passenger seat, he said, “imagine how hard this would be with snow.” I didn’t want to imagine it! As we walked up the poorly lit walk to #75, he unlocked the door to a foyer, room 75A to the left, 75B to the right.

In my room, I had a good cry. At the bottom of my tears, I realized I was pissed that I was attending a conference for estranged mothers. Mother’s should be spending Mother’s Day with their child or at least having a phone conversation. I have a mother’s heart and I miss my daughter (in spite of all that has transpired). That’s the ambivalence of estrangement. At midnight, it was such a relief to crawl under the covers.

Rising at 6am I drank a weak cup of coffee in the room while researching coffee places nearby. As I walked to my rental car, I noticed the door on the driver’s side was wide open. Oh no, I was so upset last night I must have left the door open. A man and a woman were circling the car, excitingly saying, “it was in your car!” I quickly learned their names and that they were staying in the room above me. Fredrick had caught it on video – a bear opened my car door, it was unlocked, got in, checked it out to find there was nothing of interest to him or her and got back out.

That bear not only opened my car door, it opened up laughter, brought connection to the couple and gave me a message to lightened up.

My friend Susan’s death was getting closer this time last year. When I sent the video to her daughter, her reply was, “Seems to me like some Susan trickster energy! Bears in a car but no one gets hurt. I mean?! We love you and hope you are feeling relaxed now.”

Another friend also commented that Susan came to mind when seeing the bear video. And it’s true, Susan was always good at getting me to lightened up around the estrangement with my daughter, to not be so hard on myself. So thank you Susan. We all miss you.

More on the conference and strength in numbers to come. I have to get ready for my flight home now.

Thanks for reading and hope you had a good weekend.

Content warning: strong language

Bear in Car

The Hottest Mother’s Day Getaway is a Retreat for Estranged Mothers

Mother’s Day is right around the corner—so says Hallmark, the florists, and the restuarants that serve brunch. For years it has been a day for me to ignore, like most holidays, while treating myself well; a hike in nature, or a day to read a good book. This year, I am going to a Mother’s Day retreat in Lake Tahoe specifically for estranged mothers and grandmothers. The retreat sold out in ten days, with 7,000 mothers on the waitlist.

Dr. Joshua Coleman, author of When Parents Hurt, has a Substack with 73,000 followers which I find sad and alarming. I had a couple of phone sessions with him back in 2018. Now I would not be able to afford him. But we have communicated through email (when I am fact checking on an essay) and he is very kind.

Rachel Haack, LMFT is a voice of compassion and awareness on social media and Substack. I look forward to meeting her.

We will be greeted with gift bags and a light lunch. Headlining therapists open the retreat with candid and heartfelt insights on the profound impact of estrangement on families and personal well-being.

Dr. Joshua Coleman: The Cultural Shift of Estrangement – How changing societal norms shape family estrangement and its emotional toll.
Rachel Haack, LMFT: The Traumatic Nature of Rupture – Understand the mind-body impact of attachment breaks and betrayal trauma.
Sasha Ayad, LPC: Ambiguous Loss and the Experience of Estrangement – Explore ambiguous loss and how parents can learn to live with unresolved grief while finding strength, perspective, and personal meaning.
RaQuel Hopkins, LPC: When Love Feels Rejected – Learn to process rejection while building resilience and emotional clarity.

The weekend schedule is thoughtful with presentations, time to connect with others, alone time for journaling and finally a Mother’s Day brunch. I’ve never spent time in Lake Tahoe and look forward to being there. I fly out a day after the retreat so will have some time to explore a bit.

For today, I’m doing a writing workshop, Small Helpings: A Food and Memoir Workshop, via Zoom, with Abigail Thomas and Darien Gee. I’m a long time fan o Abigail Thomas and kinda want to be her when I grow up! There is a scene in her memoir, A Three Dog Life, she and her three dogs are all sleeping in the same bed. It that sounds so comforting to me. A comfort that goes back to my childhood, as I write about inThe Warmth of Dogs. I’ve done other workshops with Darien. She is an excellent teacher especially with writing micro prose.

An essay of mine was published today in Newsweek My Turn, about estrangement and how it is contributing to the loneliness epidemic in the U.S. You can read it here:
The Last Conversation I Had With My Daughter.

P.S. I moving into a retirement community! The end of an era, after living in a historic hotel, owned by an 87 year old man. He lives in the hotel and is full of character but not into maintenance. I have grown to love his quirkness and wil stay in his life, helping him out with some things. More on that next time.

Thank you for reading, Frances

Looking For a New Read

If you need a new read or a gift, I recommend some recently published memoirs by some of my writer friends.

Famished by Anna Rollins – A groundbreaking debut memoir that examines the rhyming scripts of diet culture and evangelical purity culture, both of which direct women to fear their own bodies and appetites. To be a Christian woman was to be thin and chaste, sidestepping any pleasures of the flesh that would cause you–or a brother in Christ–to stumble into sin. But thinness was also a sign of virtue to the outside world.

Motion Dazzle: A Memoir of Motherhood, Loss, and Skating on Thin Ice by Jocelyn Jane Cox – Former competitive figure skater and coach Jocelyn Jane Cox is desperate to care for her toddler and her ailing mother, all while preparing to host a fabulous zebra-themed first birthday party at her house. As a new parent whose supportive mom is slipping away with dementia, she finds herself spinning in the middle of the so-called “sandwich generation”.

Camouflage: How I Emerged from the Shadows of a Military Marriage by Heather Sweeney– After camouflaging her identity to conform to the expected role of the supportive military spouse, Heather Sweeney emerged from the shadows of her husband’s Navy career to rediscover herself as a single mother approaching middle age.

Manna Songs: Stories of Jewish Culture & Heritage – a stunning collection of 32 powerful essays celebrating Jewish joy. Curated by Diane Gottlieb, with a foreword by Erika Dreifus, Manna Songs speaks to the rich diversity of Jewish lives. Through tallit and candlesticks, paintbrushes and prayer, these beautiful Jewish voices reach back across generations and pass traditions forward. Readers will find humor alongside sorrow, questions beside wonder, people lost, others found. Manna Songs will delight, move, and inspire you. It will make your heart sing!

The Full Catastrophe: All I Ever Wanted, Everything I Feared by Casey Mulligan Walsh – Casey needs a family of her own: the joys and the sorrows, people who love her, and a place she belongs-what Zorba the Greek called “the full catastrophe”-and she’s determined to make it happen. Adrift in the world after losing her father to a heart attack when she was eleven and her mother to cancer soon after, the death of her only sibling eight years later strengthens her resolve.

More friends have books coming out in the new year, and I will share those in the next month. I’ve witnessed these writers work hard to finish their books, get them published and persistently promote their stories. It’s a honor to help spread the word and to be a part of writing community.

Now, to get back to fine-tuning my memoir and getting it out in the world.

Wishing you a peaceful holiday,

Frances

Writing in lists, an essay was born

Back in 2020, when the world shut down, my writing group met via Zoom every Tuesday to write autobiography in lists.

Each week, we had prompts to pick and choose from.

I was surprised by where the list prompts led me.

Unusual things about me compared to most people I know
Things I think people will be secretly thinking about me at my funeral
Four wishes I would ask a genie to grant me
Things I have too many of
Times I’ve stayed too long
Books that changed how I see the world
Times you’ve felt betrayed
Noises you hate

We met every week for two years. We wrote, read our writing out loud, cried, and laughed together.

I wrote an essay from a list prompt: things you wish you could ask someone deceased, and submitted it to literary magazines for a couple of years. It finally found a home at The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature.
Here’s the essay link: It Was All Terribly Unfair

I hope you read it, and I’d love to hear your thoughts about it.

Thank you for reading.

Frances

My Summer Highlight (a writer’s conference)

I felt a hint of fall in the air this morning. School has started, and kids will report on what they did during their summer vacation. Time is different as we grow older. Summers are gone in a blip, and holiday decorations beg our attention in the stores. (I totally ignore them)

My summer highlight was attending the Port Townsend Writers Conference for a week in July.

When I made it to Fort Worden, the grounds where the conference was held, I took a stroll on the beach before checking in. The waves clapped onto the sand, applauding me for getting there after the long drive.

In line for dinner, a short, slight, spunky woman, whom I thought was around my age (66), and I laughed that the wind was messing with our short haircuts. “I wrote an essay about my hair,” she exclaimed, then shared the details and the revelation of learning to stand up for herself. Carla and I carried on, sharing our souls in no time.

After orientation, three writers read. I wasn’t familiar with them but now I want more of each of them. Alice Anderson, raised in Mississippi, read from her memoir, Some Bright Morning, I’ll Fly Away, Bryce Andrews, Montana author. I knew of him but hadn’t read him. Then Bryan Fry, editor of Blood Orange Review, born in Montana.

On the sidewalk that leads back to the dorms, the woman next to me said she might go to the beach before bed. I looked over at her, “Are you Toni Jensen?”
“Yes”
“I have been listening to your memoir on my drive, and so excited to be in your writing workshop all week. I am on Chapter 12, Chicken. Y’all are at the ice cream social at Clara Tyson’s (of Tyson Chicken). “She is something else,” said Toni.
Toni’s memoir, Carry, A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land, is powerful, well-written, hard, and necessary.

In the shared restroom back at the dorm, a woman says hello with a Southern accent. She, too, is from Mississippi, the small town of Laurel. In the hallway, Carol joined our conversation. Carol is writing fiction only because she doesn’t have all the information she needs to write about her father, who was the last to be released from Manzanar, the site of one of ten American concentration camps, where more than 120,000 Japanese Americans were incarcerated during World War II. The three of us could have talked for hours, but it was late.

The interactions and connections made over the first four hours were a good omen for the week ahead.

Amy, one of the dozen students in Toni’s morning workshop, entered the room each morning with an enthusiastic “Good morning, everyone”. Toni created a space for us to share our writing, receive feedback while teaching the craft of writing. By the end of the week, we knew each other’s stories and wanted more. Amy organized a monthly Zoom for us to continue with writing feedback. Occasionally, Toni will join us.

I could go on about the magical experiences from the week. What I will say is that folks who had been attending for years commented that this summer was one of the best. Hopefully, I’ll be able to attend next summer. Centrum, the organization that holds the conference and many other conferences for artists and musicians, is excellent. I recommend checking it out: Centrum: creativity in community.

Carla, the woman whom I had said was around my age, turns out she’s 83! She and I have exchanged a few emails since the conference. Our Zoom group has met once. In our group, a biologist who worked for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in 2003 for many years is writing a powerful memoir about the government’s denial of climate change for decades. I’m willing to bet she will be published, and it will be an enlightening book.

After the conference, I made my way to Eugene, OR, to visit friends and attend an annual weekend with the River Rompers. Each summer, a group of friends stay at a vacation rental on a river to swim, eat, and connect, holding the space for each other’s pain and joy. It’s always revitalizing. However, after a week in Eugene and just before our weekend away, I had a painful flare-up of diverticulitis and decided to come home early. I hated missing our treasured time, but it was the right choice. Rest and a liquid diet are the remedies.

I look forward to mornings that ask us to put on a sweater and watch the leaves change colors. It’s my favorite season. What’s yours?

Thanks for reading, Frances

Everybody was tired, everybody needs money and you gotta laugh

The weather was nice Saturday, but the heat felt sudden and the haze of controlled burns loomed overhead. It was the first farmers’ market of the season in downtown Missoula and the annual Brewfest. I live right in the middle of it. People were out in hordes. I could not turn left onto the street that would take me to my dog walking client. I could feel my blood boil and wished I were rich enough to have a house out in a quiet area, preferably with a creek running outside my door.

I did squeeze into the right lane and took a long route to my little dog friend. Toffee is a chihuahua mix. I like him, not a yipper. He was not his usual chipper self, running out ahead of me on the leash. At a snail’s pace we walked, he took care of his business and that was that. I let his owner know he may not be feeling good.

The 85-year-old woman I have been caring for two hours a day on Saturdays and Sundays lives just blocks from Toffee. (I love it when life gives us those little conveniences) It’s only been four months since I’ve been caring for her but I feel we have known each other a long time. I have grown to love her. She sits in her recliner in the den with an open kitchen and dining area. She has a direct view of the front door and all that goes on. I come in, take off my shoes, and she shoots out, “Hello Frances, come tell me about your week.” I sit on the couch, excitedly saying, “I got to see a rehearsal performance of Cinderella this week.” Just a few weekends ago, we talked about Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella with Leslie Ann Warren as Cinderella. We sang, In My Own Little Corner while I prepared our avocado toast.

This day, she says a quiet hello. Sitting on the couch next to her chair, I notice she looks particularly tired. She asks me to read aloud from All Creatures Great and Small so she can close her eyes and listen. She only wants half a piece of avocado toast. As usual, we discuss whatever sad events our administration has brought upon this country. Now we are both tired and sad.

From her house, I go to the library for Montana Repertory Theater’s First Reads, a staged reading series of plays the theater is considering for production. A friend of mine is reading. The play is Eelout by Paul W. Kruse. The three main male characters are in an ice house celebrating a stag party. I enjoyed it and had some good laughs. Michael Legg, the artistic director, thanked us all for coming and shared some disconcerting news that the Rep has lost some of its funding. All the grief I’ve been feeling hit me in this moment. Needing to cry, I left as soon as Michael shared this news.

Back at the hotel where I live, Jen, a dear housemate, was leaving as I was coming in. When she hugged me, I let out a deep cry, “Everything is so fucked up.” As a government employee, she was hired for a remote job working from home. The government is now requiring her to work in an office and, she lives in fear of losing her job entirely. All this after she was finally able to buy a fixer-upper house.

Since I was meeting friends at the Wilma to see the comedian, Tiffany Haddish, I tried to nap to no avail. My friend, Susan, is a fan of comedians, so we treated her to Tiffany’s show. Susan has terminal cancer, and every opportunity to enjoy her, I take. Tucked back in the nose bleed section of the theater, laughing, Susan grabbed my hand, promising to look up turtles having sex, when Tiffany shared this as one of the sites she goes to take her mind off the troubles of the world. Tiffany’s rendition of the turtle noises had us crying with laughter.

It was good to laugh at the end of the day because sometimes, damnit, that’s all we can do.

But please do what you can; write your representatives, call them, donate to the arts, to PBS and NPR, and boycott unethical businesses.

Save Public Media

Boycott List

Thanks for reading, take care of yourselves and each other.

Frances

PS, if you want to check out turtles having sex, here you go: Turtles having sex. And imagine Tiffany Haddish on stage imitating them!

Interview on PBS, Fractured Families

The PBS Weekend Newshour segment on estrangement aired on December 22, 2024. They chose parts of my interview for the segment. You may watch it here: PBS Weekend Newshour Fractured Families on YouTube. Fast forward to eleven minutes in.
I’d be interested in any thoughts you may have on it.

I learned from one of the estrangement support groups I am in that the therapist who was interviewed, Whitney Goodman, endorses estrangement. She throws around the idea that a parent may be emotionally immature.

Therapist, Rachel Haack states there are therapists who are using terms such as emotional immaturity which is not a clinical term or therapeutic. See Rachel Haack on Instagram. She is one therapist out there who is encouraging healing between those who are estranged.

There is also a trend with therapist diagnosing another person without ever meeting that person. I find this to be common in the support groups. Adult children often diagnose their parents as narcissus or have borderline personality disorder. I believe the influencers on social media such as Whitney Goodman, contribute to this unfair diagnosis.

Psychoanalyst Jamieson Webster states, “In a world where we now diagnose ourselves on TikTok, rare is the occasion to actually see what these diagnoses really mean… Diagnosis is the starting point for a long conversation between a therapist and a patient about what makes for a life.”

Armchair diagnosis is a term used when professionals or non professionals diagnose someone they have never treated. When a person resorts to name calling, they’ve lost the argument. When they resort to diagnosing, they’ve lost credibility.

A therapist from the UK responded to an article dealing with estrangement in the Guardian with this:
“It is very timely, then, that calls are being made to better regulate those “clumsy” therapists who can unleash so much trauma and grief. For the sake of our children and society as a whole, we should be seeking better familial relationships, not sowing the seeds of division.”

I couldn’t agree more. All this division hurts.

Meantime, I’m finishing up my memoir on estrangement. My book proposal editor gave me this encouragement:
“Your two sample chapters are EXCELLENT! They’re tight, well-written, flow smoothly and really engage the reader making them want to read on to find out what happens. And for what it’s worth, they’re also heartbreaking. Frances, I continue to feel there is a strong commercial market for this book. It’s an important topic, and a lot of people would benefit not only from your story, but hearing about what you learned. As a result, I encourage you to make the changes I suggest and keep writing.”

It’s been an emotional roller coaster writing this memoir, but it is important and I have learned so much and grown through this process. And this trend of children cutting off their parents is still mind boggling and sad.

My wish for the New Year is grace, grace for ourselves and others.

Thanks for reading,

Frances

Christmas at the Hotel

Winter arrived in the Northern Hemisphere at 4:20 Eastern this morning. On this shortest day of the year, all the twinkle lights strung on mantels, windows, trees and houses assure us there is light. I find comfort from the lights on my little table top tree.

Here at the 120 year old hotel where I live, housemates have been busy decorating for the season. The three story brick building built in 1902 has housed many creative folks. Some of the artist’s creations remain. It’s fascinating and funky.

Joseph, a musician and chef, has lived here for a couple of years is cooking a roast for Christmas Eve. Others will contribute to our potluck. I’ll do cheese fondue, leaving the two dogs I’m caring for a couple of hours for our gathering. Robert, the owner, 85 years old, loves it. He really loves when we all gather for food and community.

This year the hotel is adorned with a beautiful wreath made by our newest resident, Jean. Her artistic touches are much needed and welcomed.

I am thankful for yet another year living at the hotel. It has made for the perfect place for me to live. It’s affordable (very). Being a house/pet sitter, I don’t need to spend an outrageous amount for rent since I’m sleeping there probably 25% of the year.

I wanted to share some of our decorations to brightened your solstice day.

Names of housemates have been changed.

Happy Solstice
Frances

PS, PBS Newshour is doing a segment on family estrangement this Sunday. I was interviewed and will be on it.

Tis the Season

Anyone out shopping the Black Friday sales?! You couldn’t pay me to go in a store today. I’m not bah hum bug but I do feel the holidays have gotten out of hand – the consumerism, waste and stress.
The table top tree adorned with mini, multi-colored lights create holiday cheer and peace in my living space each year. That’s about all I need during this season.
If I were still in my daughter’s and grandchildren’s life I’d send them a gift. My favorite Christmas’s were the ones I spent creating as much magic as possible for my child.
I’ve become accustomed to and now prefer a quiet Christmas Day usually dog sitting, a hike with the dog or dogs, reading, writing, maybe a movie. It’s lovely, not lonely.
Last year HerStry published my essay about relationships and gift giving. Check it out. Wisdom Comes With Age.

I hope everyone had a delicious Thanksgiving. I was fully stuffed after attending two different Thanksgiving meals. The day after turkey sandwich always hits the spot!

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