Betrayal
There are moments in life when betrayal cuts so deeply, it leaves a scar you can’t always see—but always feel.
As a young girl, I was betrayed by my mother when she didn’t protect me, didn’t believe me about the abuse I endured.
As a woman, I was betrayed by my husband when he didn’t honor his vows to protect and provide for our family.
And in between, there have been countless smaller betrayals by friends, family members, and even strangers.
But none of those have hurt as much as the betrayal I’ve inflicted on myself.
A journal entry that changed everything
In November of 2021, I wrote in my journal:
"I've done myself such a disservice accepting behavior and initiating make ups with a person who is truly broken. Every time reinforcing the dysfunction and toxic behavior in an aim to keep the peace only for it not to be enough. It's created such a level of resentment in me. And I don't like that. It makes me a subpar wife and mediocre partner... at best. That all just feeds into the cycle and that's just as much on me as it is on him. But I don't know how to do it different. Was never taught how to set standards and insist they be respected. At least not in a meaningful way and I'm ashamed and ill-equipped. That's pretty scary."
That night, I realized I wasn’t just hurting; I was hurting myself. I was betraying myself to preserve someone else’s fragile ego.
Every time I accepted an apology without changed behavior…
Every time I initiated peace in chaos I didn’t create…
Every time I silenced my truth to avoid his reaction…
I was reinforcing a toxic cycle. And I was losing myself in the process.
The seed of silence
That wasn’t the first time I’d learned to bury my voice. As a teenager, I watched my mother invite her husband—the man who had abused me—back into our family home. I had to swallow my pain. Bury my opinions. Pretend I was okay. I learned that survival meant silence. That speaking my truth would only fall on deaf ears. Watching my mother stay married to the man who hurt me was crushing. Being forced to coexist with him again was heartbreaking. Overall, it was traumatizing.
And knowing that no one would stand up for me, not even her, planted a seed of worthlessness that I carried into adulthood. It taught me that love doesn’t protect. That I don’t matter. That my pain is inconvenient.
Betraying myself looked like…
Not saying how I really felt to avoid conflict
Apologizing when I was the one hurting
Prioritizing everyone else’s needs while mine went unmet
Working through exhaustion and anxiety, just to appear “strong”
Forgiving slights without accountability
Staying small so someone else could feel big
Accepting treatment I’d never want for someone I love
I used to think betrayal only came from others. But now I know the most painful betrayal is the one I commit against myself. The only way to stop that cycle is to choose me. To love myself enough to speak up. To walk away. To rest. To say no.
I’m learning what it means to love myself like I’ve always deserved. I’m not all the way there yet, but I’m no longer ashamed to try.
Journal prompts
Check out the journal prompts to explore how you may be betraying yourself:
What does self-betrayal look like in my life today?
When was the first time I remember abandoning my own needs for someone else’s comfort?
In what ways have I silenced my truth to avoid conflict or discomfort?
What would it look like to choose myself unapologetically?
How can I begin showing up for myself in small but meaningful ways each day?
What relationships or routines encourage self-betrayal, and which support my healing?
How do I feel when I honor my boundaries—and when I don't?
If I were my own best friend, what would I tell myself right now?
