Betrayed
What Does Betrayal Trauma Feel Like?
I had a friend whose boyfriend cheated on her.
I didn’t get why she was so upset.
He was the sort of boyfriend you couldn’t quite figure out —
Why?
He was her boyfriend. They were unequal. But in a lateral way.
If that makes any sort of sense.
On paper, they were similar. Similar upbringings, similar educations. Similar careers. But she was going places.
And he had gone as far as he was ever going to go.
She was much smarter than he was. Quicker. More clever. The sort of person who watched Dogma and thought it was hackneyed —
While he was the sort of person who watched the Gulf War —
And thought it was Armageddon.
So, they were different. But dating. And then living together. And they were at that age where people usually settled down, and she probably thought they were going to get married. But then she found out he was cheating on her. With someone —
Truth be told.
Who was probably a lot more compatible with him than she was.
And she was devastated. For years. She would date people and sabotage the relationships because she was afraid they would cheat on her too. She had lost trust.
I couldn’t figure out what the big deal was.
She didn’t really even like the guy. We used to make fun of him behind his back. About what a simpleton he was.
What was the problem?
My friend probably had a form of betrayal trauma.
But I had a form that was worse.
My friend had never been betrayed before.
I’d been betrayed all the time.
I couldn’t even conceive of a relationship where there wouldn’t be betrayal. Wasn’t betrayal just what people did? Wasn’t life just a series of events leading to a betrayal?
What exactly was the issue here?
I dated someone once. In my twenties. Two dates. Weird dates. The sort of dates you might have with someone in junior high. Who brought along friends.
They sat behind us at the movies.
I thought after the first date, there wouldn’t be any more friends. But on the second date, he brought more. And then he sent the friends home and broke up with me.
And then called the following week to reiterate it.
This was the sort of thing I was used to.
Or, if not used to, at least inured to. Which means they didn’t strike me as odd. I remember the morning after the breakup, I just couldn’t get out of bed. One o’clock. Two o’clock.
Still in bed.
And I don’t remember being upset, I just remember being —
Inured.
Which is a good word.
Accustomed. Especially to something unpleasant. That’s the Merriam-Webster definition, and I think it’s a good one. I would add expectant. Of bad things. Or at least not surprised —
Hello darkness, my old friend!
When bad things happened.
So, I wasn’t really upset.
Only inured.
When this guy. Who I’d seemed so compatible with. And who seemed to like me.
So much.
In a way that just made pairing —
Obvious.
Had broken up with me. On our second date.
The only thing that actually did surprise me.
A little.
Was when he called to reiterate it.
Because —
Why?
People abandoned you. All the time. It’s what they did.
Why would he think he would have to explain it?
Mr. Scrooge just happened to be a huge wealth creator. They don’t mention that in Mr. Dickens’ books, do they?
— Connor Roy, Succession
Children whose parents betray them don’t expect others to treat them any differently.
They just think that’s the way life is.
And they excuse it in others.
So, when this guy broke up with me.
On our second date.
I just wondered why —
Kept happening. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with him. I just thought there was something wrong with life.
My life.
Because why did this keep happening to me? Why did I have so much difficulty with men?
Not —
Why were the men I was choosing so difficult?
And I didn’t get that for a really long time.
Maybe until today.
There was something wrong with the men I was choosing. But like Connor Roy, I couldn’t see it. I made excuses for them. I took qualities —
Distancing
Abandoning
Punishing
I had seen in people in my early life and called those qualities normal.
So, Mr. Scrooge wasn’t a jerk. He was a wealth creator. And the men I was dating weren’t flawed.
They were choosy.
And the reason they weren’t choosing me.
Was because I wasn’t good enough.
And if I could only be better —
They would.
I played the same game with this guy.
But mostly with myself.
For decades.
Choose me!!
But I was never good enough. Could never jump —
High enough.
Could never be enough.
For him.
When it never even occurred to me that maybe he wasn’t enough —
For me.
At least in his ability to have a relationship.
Because this person had qualities I loved. This was a good person. He was smart and he was funny and he was quick and he was clever.
And he was kind.
When he didn’t feel threatened.
But he didn’t want a relationship.
Or maybe he just didn’t want a relationship with me.
But that doesn’t mean there was something wrong —
With me.
People with betrayal trauma make excuses for the betrayal. Especially if they were first betrayed as children. They somehow convince themselves that because the person that betrayed them had good qualities, the betrayal was okay
Often by telling themselves they deserved it.
Because if it’s your fault —
You can fix it.
So, I tried to fix it. By fixing me. And it didn’t matter.
Because he didn’t want me —
Anyway.
And sometimes you just have to live with that.
At some point, you realize it doesn’t matter who it is.
Because you’re just stuck —
With you.
Whether it was him or whether it was you, he’s gone.
So, you’d better be satisfied with you.
And that’s sort of the end of betrayal trauma.
Because you start to see that all these other people?
And that sounds like it’s the worst thing. But it’s actually the best thing. Because it’s the beginning of your relationship —
With you.
A relationship you never got to have before. Because all your other relationships were about them. About what you could do —
For them.
And now all of a sudden —
It’s about you.
About what you need out of the relationship.
And if they’re not able to give it to you —
Because you like you.
