“He, who had done more than any human being to draw her out of the caves of her secret, folded life, now threw her down into deeper recesses of fear and doubt. The fall was greater than she had ever known, because she had ventured so far into the emotion and had abandoned herself to it.” — Anais Nin

 

The journey through betrayal is a difficult one. There’s a lot of self-questioning, self-doubt, self-loathing, self-reflection. I’ve found myself very “ME” focused. Engaging with other people is hard. Caring about other people is hard. Getting off the couch is hard. Pretending to be okay is hard.

If you know me at all by now, you know that I’m determined to not get stuck in bitterness, anger, hate, vengeance, depression, blackness. But how do I do that? How do I even begin to process this betrayal? How do I journey to forgiveness?

I’ve gotten copious amounts of apologies. I’ve gotten tears. I’ve gotten promises of therapy.

I want to believe it all. I desperately want to pretend that none of this ever happened. Denial: It’s really what I do. When I was date-raped in college, I stayed at the guy’s apartment for hours afterward. Why in the world would I do that?! I’ve gotten the same answer to that question from several different therapists: I was trying to make that situation into something else. Something it wasn’t. Something more palatable. Something less catastrophic to my psyche. I did the same thing in my marriage. And I’m again feeling that same internal, STRONG pull to twist things around in my mind so I can avoid the pain. I don’t want this situation to be like the date rape. I don’t want this situation to be like my marriage. I don’t want to keep denying reality. But, mother fucker, is it painful. Denial feels better.

 

 

 

“The only way out is through.” I’ve said it a million times. My brain KNOWS it to be true. But I have some pretty deeply ingrained crappy personality traits that come raging to the surface when I feel abandoned. My survival skill is screaming: DO NOT ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE ALONE! DO WHATEVER IT TAKES! DO NOT BE ABANDONED AGAIN! DON’T YOU REMEMBER HOW BADLY THAT HURTS?! This is what the death of a parent does to a 13 year old girl. This girl.

So I have all of these conflicting and scary and big and overwhelming feelings swirling around in my soul, and I don’t know what to do with them. My therapist is fantastic and great and insightful and BRILLIANT. Unfortunately, she is six feet tall and I’m unable to carry her around in my pocket with me at all times. I have clarity while I sit in her office and I have doubt when I’m out here, scrambling on my own.

Maybe that’s the worst part of it all: I can’t trust my gut, anymore. I can’t trust my feelings. I can’t trust that I will make the best decisions for me because I consistently have not done so. I don’t even know what the best decisions are, anymore! I thought I knew. But I was wrong.

Can we have a moment of raw honesty? I’m a psych nurse. I know coping skills. I’m familiar with personality disorders. I know I have traits that get activated. I know G has strong traits that are most definitely currently activated. I know this relationship has hurt me beyond words. And I know that I need to get on with my life, get off my couch, go do my errands, and be an adult. And do you know what I’m doing? Sitting on my couch, in my robe, drinking an RC, writing a blog, and texting G. Yep. I’m texting G. Not like everything is good. There are lots of f-bombs and accusations, but I’m engaging. And I so desperately want to believe that everything can be made good again. That’s what a damn psych nurse has to believe: that people can change …. Only they don’t always. They CAN but that doesn’t mean that they will.

I’m still hearing the screaming of my soul: DO NOT ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE ABANDONED. That’s a hard voice to silence. My “easy out/escape” in the past was to go to suicidal thoughts because, ironically, that helped to ease the pain. Made me feel like I had some sort of “out” or something. Removing those thoughts is most definitely healthier, but it also lays the pain squarely on my lap so I have to hold it and sit with it and deal with it. There is no escape. Strike that. There is no painless escape. There will be an out. There is life after this. But not without feeling the pain.

So there it all is: all of my humiliation in stunning detail. I’ve been spectacularly betrayed and I continue to want to believe that there can be a happy ending. I adore Pollyanna as much as the next girl, but when do I cross into delusional thinking? And where’s my pocket-therapist when I need her?! I’m on my own for the next two weeks ‘til I see her again. In the meantime, you probably think that I’m an idiot. I kinda think the same thing. But I’m trying. That voice in my head screams and screams and screams and screams and doesn’t shut up. Denial quiets it. Sitting in the pain does not. Sitting in the pain, right now, feels overwhelming and crushing and suffocating.

Life is hard.

Relationships are hard.

Overcoming unhealthy personality traits is hard.

Trusting your gut when it’s been so wrong so often is hard.

 

Sigh. But I’m gonna keep trying. Here’s to pressing on and fighting the good fight.