Indebted to Betrayal

I have a confession to make. I did a facebook search for that guy. You know, the one from thirty years ago who broke my heart and destroyed any hope for trusting men, or worse – myself. I had searched for him several years ago without resolution, but whatever drove me to commit this questionable act now, be it curiosity or boredom, this time… he was there.

I wondered how I would ever feel if I found him. My first reaction was a bit of a gasp for the shock of his actual existence. Perhaps that old wound I carried more than half of my life was real, after all.  I believe a lot can be said for the intentional healing work that I’ve done over the last three years, to realize that my second reaction was to notice there was zero emotional charge.

It was odd to peek into a life that, at the age of 20 I imagined would be a part of my own. The parts that were public included photos of family, and relationship status… divorced. There were pictures of his parents, whom we visited in Turkey in that year of our togetherness, and there were pictures of his brother-in-law, whom I met at his sister’s wedding that year. I searched eagerly for a photo that included her, because she had Cystic Fibrosis, and I wanted desperately to know that, somewhere around age 50, she had beaten the odds of survival with that fierce disease. Guess what!  She was there! What a glorious sight.

There were also pictures of his teenage daughter, the spitting image of her dad. There was one of her in an athletic school outfit, and one… of her shooting an AR-15 at a gun range. [dramatic pause]

When I think about the betrayal I felt when he came home from a college overnight event with hickeys on his neck, blatant signposts of his lack of regard for my presence in his life and home, I wonder how different my life may have been if this impressionable twenty year old girl in her first real-love relationship had never been betrayed. I mean, surely there are men, even at the age of 20, who would never consider living with a woman and making out with another woman at the same time.

So, if he had been faithful, and we had maintained our loving relationship, filled with mutual respect, adoration, and passion, following through with our plans for marriage… these photos upon which I was reflecting might just be the photos of my life, as well. Oh, good golly!

If he had not cheated and come home with such visual evidence of his betrayal, I might have never believed that I was not good enough. I might never have believed that no man could love me. I might never have believed that I was fat and ugly. I might never have believed that I could never trust a man with my heart, and that I could never trust myself to choose a partner well.

If he had not cheated – with my awareness, I might not have tried to find forgiveness, and when trust could not be rebuilt, I might not have stood up to insist that I deserved better, and he had to go.

If I had not been betrayed by him, I might have betrayed myself, by entering a world that did not speak to my soul… one that includes allowing a teenage girl (possibly from my womb) to hold a weapon of violence and mass destruction.

If I had been suffered to stay in a relationship that was not meant for my destiny, I would not have gone to that Women’s Conference when I was 23, which brought me to my people, my spiritual path, and my sense of belonging to something so sacred that it would bless me in ways of which I am still learning at age 49.

Today, I kneel at the altar of every goddess of love and destruction with gratitude for this betrayal. I am so madly in love with the ME that I’ve become, I would grieve for her loss in any alternate reality.

This betrayal led to my own abandonment, as I learned from my intuitive life coach three years ago. When she scanned for the inquiry of my love life, and the first thing she found was ‘that guy’ and how he had planted that seed that would take root from my sacral chakra into darkness. The problem was… that I had watered it so faithfully. I chose nurturing false belief in my lack of worthiness to be loved, over loving myself fiercely and showing others how it should be done.

From that first session, I went home with an assignment. I was to ritually cut the cords of bondage that kept me securely tied to this betrayal. She saw at least ten cords extending from my ethereal being to his. Already in the habit of setting intentions at the new moon, and releasing what no longer serves me when it is full, my timing could not have been better. My first meeting with one of my great teachers, was the day before the full moon in November.

The next day, as the moon reached Her peek of luminosity, I lit some sage and ran a hot bath. Into the steaming water, I added epsom salt, sea salt, drops of sage oil, and my sacred vessel of holding… my body. Dissolving into the symbolic womb of the Great Mother, I closed my eyes to find myself face to face with the one who unknowingly, would be a significant soulmate, despite his brief appearance in the story of my life. His purpose in my life was not to show me how I deserved to be loved, but to start me on the path toward learning to love myself.

As I cut each cord, I told him what they represented, what I had learned, and I thanked him for the lessons with which I was finished. Beyond the cutting, I made sure that all that was mine, and only mine, was retracted into my energetic being, and that healing light filled and sealed the areas formerly violated. I sent his own cords back to him, with love, light, and gratitude.

As I emerged from the bath, I allowed the sorrow and heartbreak of all that had been lost to spiral down the drain. Like Aphrodite, I rose from saline waters whole and renewed… ready to be loved and adored in the way that every being upon the earth deserves… even ME.

Three years after severing this bond, I do feel better and stronger in my sense of self. Of course, I immediately attracted someone into my life who brought a different kind of betrayal, but in some ways, I feel that was more about him than me. I’m good with that, too. I’m learning to more quickly identify the unwanted cords of attachment, and snip, heal, and move forward.

I do long for the kind of love that has eluded me in this lifetime, but for now… I AM ENOUGH.

Author: MelissaBee

Author of Persephone's Passage: Walking My Father into the Underworld - The Spiritual Journey of an End-of-Life Doula; Joyfully exploring an authentic life as a writer, a healer, and a sacred ceremony facilitator, while caring for aging parents, with reverence and gratitude. View all posts by MelissaBee