Faces…of Betrayal

Who is she, the betrayed? It never really mattered to me before. It was never more than a passing moment of surprise, or I’m not surprised. It used to be I thought maybe they’d brought it on themselves, or were the cause of the wandering because they were too demanding. Too controlling. Too harsh. Too weak. Too (fill in the blank). Or maybe there were not loving. Not supportive. Not fun. Not sexually willing. Not (fill in the blank).

HerFault

But it wasn’t me, or my kind.

It wasn’t women who were smart and engaged and read books and prayed and went to counseling and talked openly about relationship and were willing to try things in bed. Women who carried the load when other’s in the family couldn’t and always got the laundry done and made sure the family had matching clothes on Easter and Christmas Eve pajamas. Women who made time to talk to their husbands and cared how they looked and ran companies and volunteered with their husbands and invited people into their home for family Bible studies. Women who opened their home to long-term visitors from countries all over the world and invited elderly parents to move in and got comments from people over and over about how great their marriage was. Women who’d had the opportunity to consort with men during their marriage and yet would never have dreamed of doing so. Women who believed that love was not just a feeling, but a choice and a decision and were committed to it for the long haul.

valueloyalty

No, it wasn’t me, or my kind.

I remember reading stories online or hearing a snippet on tv about women whose husbands had been found to be living double lives and thinking – how dumb is SHE? How could that EVER HAPPEN…she must have ignored the signs. Because it couldn’t be me, or my kind. We would know, we would have seen, we would not have stood for that.

But it was me. I am the face of betrayal.

I look around at the faces of the women of betrayal that this scourge has opened my eyes to. I see lovely young faces. Old, wrinkled faces. I see dark skin and light skin and mulatto skin. I see women from all nations and all faiths. I see bone thin women and large women. I see stay-at-home-moms and working moms and business owners and non-profit leaders. I see women in the lines of local and state agencies, and women serving those women. I see me, and I am so incredibly humbled.

The faces of betrayal. They are all of us. And they are beautiful, oh so beautiful.

facesofwomen

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30 thoughts on “Faces…of Betrayal

  1. Spot on, as always. Humbling. I never thought I’d be here one day, and, sadly, I was also the one who would have said: how could she not know?! And yeah, simply, she, they, we, could not now. It is not our fault, and we are beautiful. “Women who believed that love was not just a feeling, but a choice and a decision and were committed to it for the long haul.”

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sometimes the harshest judges are those who’ve never experienced what you’re going through. Whenever I feel myself judging I try to remember how the Lord himself was betrayed by one of his closest friends. Really makes me stop and think, what did He do to deserve that? Of course the answer: Nothing.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I, too, was a member of the club, and can only wish you and every betrayed woman – and man – the peace that eventually comes when you know that you can trust yourself again; that you are truly the hero of your life; that you have flourished.Fortunately, that soul-deep agony from such a swift sword – unknowingly forged from my love, my trust, my dreams, wielded by oh so unworthy a man – has faded after a lifetime of loss and new love and hope and force of will.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Always love you and your blog. I was one of the people who said “not me, not my kind”. I was 29 when it happened. For months I thought how stupid I was, how could I not see it. The truth was, I didn’t want to. I wasn’t stupid at all, I was loyal, exactly what I was supposed to be. I would really like to share this post if you don’t mind
    We are all worthy. We can all take comfort in the fact that “the not me, not my kind” simply means that we aren’t the ones and the kind that would betray.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. thanks! 🙂
    I was getting so sick of those betrayed, who decide to heal by saying that they allowed the disconnection (as if it was an active process, a decision) and therefore the affair was a two-way street. I cannot hear that any more.

    Your contribution is what counts and what helps others.
    I know all betrayed find their own way of healing as they have their own story as well, and some never heal and remain stuck in hatred and bitterness. We are not to judge, but when it is pushed upon grieving people…that is different.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It is different…you are so right. I will never be able to reconcile infidelity as a two-way street. I have learned much, and through this painful process, have become different in many ways, but claim none – NONE – of the responsibility for betrayal. 100% on him, and him alone, and would have happened with me as his wife, or someone else. Thank you, Dr. E, for your support.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. SS, thank you for this. It is so comforting. I have not posted for ages but I’ve been reading and wrestling. Oh the wrestling is so wearying.
    😩😥
    I’d also like to reblog…
    💜

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I am among one of those men who want to confess that I can relate to this article!! I think most men who were betrayed once or many times can do!!

    Dropping from A to Z challenge, I tagged you in my post (Jon Snow – Everyone’s favorite) today!!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for visiting, Hemant…and sharing that you can relate. It is a bizarre club to be a member of, that’s for sure. I’ll come by and see your post, and thank you for tagging!!

      Like

  8. I felt reminded of the saying that ”The Devil’s sword cuts both ways”, when reading this. I agree on the need to heal and be true to oneself again, too, as the hurt and detachment of the aftermath can make it seem so much easier to become one more proverbial fiend (kinda anti-social or narcissist self-pity addict)…

    Liked by 1 person

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