On Betrayal
It’s been nearly four years since my second divorce from the same man was final. Our time together really never was. I think we both tried. I also think we were both too lost in our personal stories to include one another. I can’t speak for him, but I know that I was still reaching toward a sense of self that wasn’t defined by neglect and trauma. And all the time still sown up with neglect and trauma.
I digress.
We met when we were both 18. Both freshmen in college. Both set a little adrift by the promise of childhood and the reality of childhood’s end. Him the middle of seven children — the ultimate loved but left to his own devices kid. Me the middle of 11 foster and biological siblings — the youngest of one set and oldest of the other — the ultimate in disappointing expectations and having nothing expected.
We were scared and lonely and horny. What could go wrong?
So we got engaged, and I got pregnant, and we got married. And I had a baby, and a miscarriage, and a baby, and a baby. And then I turned 24.
Before we were even fully formed adults, we were parents and homemakers and “destined.” And I became none of the things I dreamed about growing up. I became a mom and a wife.
Those aren’t bad. I don’t have regrets about that. It happened. I love my sons. I’m grateful that I got the chance to “live in that genre.”
But I also learned HARD about betrayal. I could write about infidelities and insecurities and all of that. That happened. But it wasn’t the worst.
For me, the biggest betrayal was the internalization that I very literally sacrificed everything — dreams, possibilities, my body, my time — for a person who believed (as evidenced by his actions) that it wasn’t worth as much as his. Not only that, but those children — now adults — who he loves and cherishes (as much as he knows how) were nurtured to life by me at the expense of my own person. For them. But also for him.
It’s been nearly four years. Over four and a half since I left him for the final time. I don’t miss him, because I don’t know him.
And that feels like the greatest betrayal. I gave everything, and he didn’t even give enough to actually know him. Or maybe he did. And I just didn’t like what he gave.
