Betrayal as Old as Time
Long before the word “betrayal” earned its right to be named circa 1300, it circulated far and wide touching almost every human who ever lived. It’s the club almost everybody has been inducted in, yet the one no one wants to be a member of. Furthermore, I’m surprised to find almost all “members” of the taboo club refuse to talk about the untruths and rarely admit they’ve been victim or participant in it.
“Arlene” hired me because her husband abruptly moved out after 16 years of marriage, three beautiful kids, two dogs, a cat, a lucrative business, and a lifetime of good memories. It hit her like a fast-moving freight train. They had endured a marriage with their fair share of challenges, but she was convinced they had overcome them, and they seemed compatible. She had no clue what was going on as his behaviors were unfamiliar, his actions were secretive, his phone had become off limits (and always within his reach), and his demeanor was annoyed and irritated. Despite her gut feeling that he may be seeing someone, she rationalized it away because she really had no tangible proof. All she had was a nagging feeling, thoughts that made her question her sanity, and flashbacks of him ludicrously accusing her of cheating. As she explained her scenario with reservations as to whether she was doing the right thing or not, she asked me if I was understanding all she was saying. While I rarely vomit my personal circumstances to clients, I made a promise to my God that when he brought me through my own circumstance, that I would never deny it if a victim/client asked me; I refuse to contribute to making someone feel like the Lone Ranger. Isolation is one of the worst feelings. I also knew my experience, training, education, and passion for truth and verification could help serve people- people like “Arlene.”
After some thorough meticulous investigation, it was confirmed that Arlene’s husband was having an affair. “Arlene” was devastated, but after she learned the truth, she said she was relieved to know that she wasn’t crazy. She decided to conduct her “azimuth check,” regrouped, and championed through a painful complex divorce with the utmost dignity (and with some detailed adultery evidence), and came out like a boss. Sure, she had bad days, but she told me that nothing was as terrible as not knowing the truth.
Betrayal hurts. Betrayal trauma is real. It makes the victim question his/her worth. No matter how much you suspect it, confirmation punches you straight in the gut and is exactly an extremely painful honesty. Your stomach drops and you feel like its going to fall straight out of your rear end. Your heart breaks…. figuratively, but it sure as hell feels literal. Sleep and appetite allude you, and you just want to crawl in a hole and figure out what went wrong and how you got here and where do you go next? I won’t even describe the humiliation and isolation. Who can you even turn to for consolation as the very person you trusted and loved most was your worst offender with lies? As a side note, let me say it’s never the victim’s fault. People make choices and they either reap the benefits or suffer the consequences. It does take two to make a relationship work, but rarely is either a mind reader. Stepping out and lying instead of talking about what’s missing or what one needs/desires is a choice and it needs to be owned by the offender(s). The end. Deceptions are darkness, never good, and always need to be exposed. In the end, most of our clients (especially for infidelity) say they initially dismissed their gut feelings, but suspected the truth was deeply buried. After the truth was discovered and brought to light, clients asserted that moving forward towards healing absolutely required the revelation of the honest facts. “Arlene” survived betrayal as almost all of us have (since the beginning of time), she’s healing and experiencing joy again, and she also refuses to deny her infamous membership to the age old “betrayal club.” The truth really does set us free.
Written by Jennifer
*Art image- Edvard Munch, Ashes, 1895. Image via Wikimedia Commons.