![]() ![]() People have said things to me like, “Who needs someone like that in your life? Just forget about it and go on” or “Are you still sad about this situation? Why don’t you go out and meet someone new?” While the intention is kind, these statements further alienate the person who grieves. Angry of my behalf, I’ve had many well-intentioned friends try to keep me from feeling sad by pressing me to “not care” anymore. I’ve found that grieving the losses of betrayal are often compounded by the reactions of my friends. We can begin to heal our damaged self-esteem and our trust in others.īetrayal signifies loss – loss of trust, loss of safety, loss of predictability, and maybe even loss of a relationship. When we hold others responsible for what they have done, rather than blame them for all of our self-doubting feelings, we re-instate confidence in ourselves. However, when we hold ourselves and others accountable for specific behavior, we can be clear about the hurtful actions, recognize what can be learned from the situation, and identify what steps can be taken to make amends. He is totally to blame for this mess.” Blaming ourselves or others is a trap which keeps us from healing by consuming our energy in ill-defined accusations and overstating the negative. It’s all her fault” or “He’s cruel and self-centered. I say things to myself like, “If I were stronger, I wouldn’t get hurt” or “See what a failure I am? I get what I deserve.” After pounding myself to a pulp, I often swing to the other extreme and blame the person who hurt me. If you’re like me, my first response is to blame myself. When we’re hurt, it is natural to look for someone to blame. We are hurt when we least expect it by those we rely on to be on our side. But when we are hurt by someone we love and trust, the pain seems more intense because it takes us by surprise. Betrayal is hurt that comes in many forms – a promise broken, a confidence violated, a boundary crossed, a lie exposed. A wife finds a receipt in her husband’s coat pocket and realizes he’s having an affair a business partner reviews the accounting and finds funds missing a young woman excitedly says yes to a date with a man she admires, only having the evening end in rape a son finds a bottle of gin hidden in his father’s desk after being assured his dad is sober. So there we are, relaxed, at ease, and unprotected when the horrible surprise occurs. That is the great thing about trusting someone – we don’t have to be on our guard. But we do none of these things with someone we trust. ![]() We keep our vulnerabilities covered, our radar alert for warning signs, and make sure we know the location of the nearest exit door. ![]() ![]() Why don’t we see betrayal before it happens? The answer is simple: we aren’t looking. Questions fill our minds: Why didn’t I see this coming? What did I do to deserve this? How can I face the loss? Why didn’t God protect me? We often respond to betrayal as we do to the death of a loved one, with shock and disbelief, tears and grieving, anger and despair. Betrayal is a form of death that can reach down and shake our hold on reality. “Why didn’t you warn me?” I asked God in anger, unwilling to listen to the answer. Sick in body and spirit, I rolled myself up in blankets on the couch, not letting even God comfort me. My body mirrored the emotional suffering by contracting flues and infections. Unable to find a comfortable resting place, I rotated through feelings of embarrassment, disbelief, self-doubt, rage, loss and sadness. Some days I hurt so intensely, I could only visit the truth for short periods of time. In the past several months, I have suffered the searing pain of betrayal. Dan’s face and hands tingled as he realized that George, Margaret’s husband, had violated his confidence. “I think my wife heard it from Margaret” one of the assistant pastors informed him. Who needs men, right Jill? Jill?.Are you still on the line?” Dan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The signs were all there, the slick charm, the swagger, the pieces that didn’t add up. “I knew the moment I saw that guy he wasn’t good for you, Jill,” her friend’s voice bounced out of the phone receiver, cutting into her heart. Bruce cried in the darkness, “How could my mother have done that to me?” Last night he awoke from the nightmare knowing who exactly this woman was. For years, a blurry image of these hands had come to him in the form of a repetitive nightmare.īut he had always been jarred awake before he could see the face attached to those intrusive hands. All he could see was the blisteringly clear scene in his mind of a woman’s hands touching him, caressing him, molesting him. Bruce stared out the window, blind to the view in front of him. ![]()
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