My childhood was full of it. While some would consider my divorce evidence of the largest betrayal of all, I do not see it that way. By the time I divorced I'd become accustomed to such and actually welcomed the demise of the marriage. There is no singular betrayal which defined me, it was more the compounded effect of one on top of the other which shaped my heart.

One was a second grade teacher. I was not the world's best math student. I'd taken forever to conserve number and so until second grade math meant nothing. I had to work extremely hard to even stay up with the class on this topic. One day we did our seatwork and were standing in line to have our math papers graded. She had the answer page out where we all could see it. One problem was especially tough and the only student who had gotten the correct answer was my best friend. I looked at my paper when I got to the place where I could see her master sheet. I HAD THE ANSWER RIGHT!! I was so happy, I was going to have my first perfect math paper ever...my parents were going to be so proud of me and I would get a treat from her little treatbox.

When I presented her with my paper she looked it over. She was quiet for a second then she said in a very curt voice, "That problem was too hard, you are not smart enough to have gotten it right on your own. You must have copied off Susan." She placed an "X" over the problem and wrote COPIED -1 in the upper right hand corner. I was stunned...she falsely accused me of copying a math problem! I couldn't have copied, and I told her so. Susan's desk was all the way across the room from mine. I didn't have a pencil with me in line it was on my desk.

I'd like to say that it all worked out, but it didn't. She had it out for me the rest of the year because in an odd moment of bravery I stood up to her and told her I hadn't copied. After having me in the corner for what seemed like hours (during which time I scratched "I hate you" into the brick) she made me stay in from recess to do extra math. I had to use the bathroom. I raised my hand and asked. She said I could not go until I was done. I ended up wetting myself and then she made a point to ridicule me for it in front of the class. My parents rebuked her for not letting me go to the bathroom but didn't stand up for me in regards to the cheating or the ridicule. That hurt almost as much as what happened in class.

I learned that since I was no good at math - even if I tried to be good someone was going to push me down. I didn�t try any more in that subject and to this day have to calculate my 6, 7, and 8 times tables because I failed to memorise them. I repeated that sort of thing for years. If I try something and determine I'm not good at it, I don't make a habit of trying again. Why bother?

I learned that you can't count on those who are supposed to be watching out for you and that my parents would always take the side of authority over me, regardless of what really happened. I also learned that school was not a safe place to be. It must be acceptable to ridicule me, even teachers do it and don't get called on it.

Another time it was my mother who betrayed me. I was a very timid child and loved animals of all sorts. This particular day I had a frog I'd caught and was keeping as a pet for a while. I was outside with him gathering insects when three of the neighbourhood bullies showed up threatening to kill my frog. My kindergarten-age heart was horrified. I knew what they did to bugs and things, so I knew they would definitely end up killing this poor creature too. They threatened to beat me up if I didn't give them the frog. I wasn't going to give them the frog and I knew I couldn't fight, so I did what I thought would save us both.

I ran inside, to the warmth of my home, crying. My mother asked what was wrong and then said "Come on" and pulled me in front of her as she strode determinedly toward the door. I was so sure my mother was going to tell those so and so's what for that I burst out the door with great enthusiasm. I stepped out onto the porch certain that she was behind me. No sooner than my feet had hit the concrete did I hear the door slam behind me and the lock click. She's locked me out where those boys were going to hurt me!

I obviously survived (thanks to my loyal German shepherd) but I learned never to trust my mother, she was willing to allow me to be beaten up rather than protect me. I deduced from this that I wasn't worth protecting, and that I was alone when it came time to face trouble. My home was not a haven, it was merely some place to pass through, eat and sleep. That is a horrible feeling to get as a kindergartener. (Years later I learned it was an effort to inspire me to "stand up" for myself)

Another was at the hands of the same woman. When I decided I didn't like to do housework, specifically dishes, my sister was very young, possibly two years old. My mother assigned the dishes to me every night and made a proclaimation that while my sister was young she would not be doing much housework like I had...she had very wrinkled hands. If she worked alot she would get sickly. My sister seemed normal to me and over the years I saw it as a sign that my mother favoured her. One day, out of exasperation with my complaining about it, she promised that when I was 13 my sister would help with the chores and I'd never have to wash dishes again. Every time I dusted and sneezed I remembered her promise. Ever dish I washed recalled her words.

Perhaps I obessed about my hatred of these chores too much but it is what motivated me to continue to do a good job. On my thirteenth birthday I delightedly proclaimed that I was done with dishes, due to what I had been promised by my mother. She looked at me as if I�d sprouted two heads and said "I never said that" When I told her exactly when it was, she accused me of lying. This went on for quite some time until Dad said my sister and I would share the dishes and the chores until I left home. He said he doubted Mom ever made that promise and he's certainly never heard anything about my sister's wrinkled hands.

Since I'd learned Mom could not be trusted with my safety I wasn't surprised that she also could not be trusted to honour commitments to me. I deduced that commitments made to me were not as important as those made to others and thus I was somehow less than worthy of a honoured promise. Why not I was unworthy of many other things?

Betrayals by friends were numerous and the list would be long. Friends were not easily made and I had few to begin with. In general they were outcasts like me and it often took a year or two to even find them. Of course we all wanted to be popular, so when a popular clique decided one of my friends could run with them they jumped at the chance. Often this meant that they went from carrying my secrets and honouring my worth as a person to spreading my business around school and emotionally abusing me with the rest of the popular kids. Trust became a commodity I really could not afford.

Those affected the course of my heart, the betrayal that effected the course of my life was that of my husband�s infidelity and divorce. I'd had a dream, I was married with children and everything seemed normal to everyone on the outside. But behind the mask was a horrible marriage and a very wounded soul being wounded again and again. I could not trust and never learned to open myself up to my husband until the very end. I'd decided to make a decision to do so and allowed it. We were in counseling. Things seemed to be going well, with a few setbacks here and there. But I was guardedly optimistic, my parents had endured alot and were still together and it was going well for them.

He got stationed in Korea on a remote assignment and found a woman who he thought was better looking and had values closer to his. He wouldn't have to change his expectations for her, so he decided to break up our family in order to live his dream. The marriage was dragging me down and I knew it, it was hurting me and I knew it. But it still smarted to have someone once more tell me that I was not attractive or worthy of respect and that I did not deserve having a promise fulfilled.

What did I learn from all this? Eventually I learned to lighten up some. No I didn't become an optimist or develop a "who cares" attitude. But I did learn that when one's life is shaken up, one can build a new one. I did learn that what others promise to me is not as important as what I promise myself. Disappointments happen, but if I promise to care for my own well being, I will be alright even if others betray me. If I care for and nurture my relationship with God, I don't have to arrange my life around the words of others.

The people who betrayed me were for the most part people I looked up to and respected. In many other areas of their lives they were, to my knowledge, great people. I had to come to terms with this. My friends were not evil...deep down I wanted to be in their shoes when they got accepted by the popular kids. My mother was a beautiful woman christian woman who just had some very strange ideas. My mother loved her children and usually protected them too much (does the phrase Mama bear cover it? Not hardly). It lead me to understand that we all had flaws and it was possible that I could have done the same things if I'd had their experiences and their choices. "There but for the grace of God go I." I took in some profound lessons about the frailies of the human soul and am the better for it.

I also learned that what is not able to hurt you cannot be used to betray you. I well placed dagger to the heart will always draw blood - unless the blade is made of paper. Admitting that I am human and have sins in my life in the open makes that information common knowledge...the same goes with all of my experiences. If I face the world honestly, there can be no ammunition with which to hurt me. I was molested. It's not a dirty little secret, so I can't be shamed by it. I'm not conventional. I'm honest and open about that and you can't hurt me by pointing that out. Lies and secrets are what blades are made of. It's a lesson that is hard to learn and even harder to put into practice when you've been where I have been. The secret to doing so is to make your inside and your outside match. Lies aren't only things you speak with your mouth. Sometimes you live them.

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