Feeling a Little Betrayed
It’s hard to write a catchy headline about betrayal. You either sound like a tabloid screaming for attention (“BETRAYED!”) or you sound like you’re seeking advice for the lovelorn (“Betrayed? 16 Steps to Get Over It”). But I settled on the one above because it’s impossible. Being “a little betrayed” is like being “a little pregnant.”
My guess is that a lot of us are feeling it right now. And not admitting it. Again, kind of like pregnancy. At first the information is shared on a need-to-know basis. Then suddenly everything shifts and it takes over your entire life every waking moment.
There are endless internet rabbit holes you could go down. Book lists. Movie lists. Probably podcast lists too. But I’m going to warn you now: A single book or movie about betrayal is not going to be satisfying enough. You will come away hating one character but still feeling a lingering sense that the author hasn’t quite captured the epic-ness of your betrayal.
You need a whole series. My go-to was A Song of Ice and Fire, better known as Game of Thrones. I checked out the ebooks from the library, because I was broke, and I had to read them fast before they disappeared from my device. They are very, very long books, and the only time I had for reading while working full time and taking care of two kiddos was nighttime when I should have been sleeping. But I’m going to warn you now: You don’t sleep much anyway when you feel you’ve been betrayed.
You could probably watch the TV series instead of reading the books, but there is a whole lot more betrayal in the books, which makes them much more satisfying. When you are in the depths of feeling betrayed, it feels that made-up worlds where everyone is horrible are a perfect reflection of reality.
Ever since my first big bout of betrayal, I’ve experienced smaller ones. Sometimes it helps me to put myself into character. For instance: A seasoned mercenary is hired to play a small role in a disfunctional kingdom, gradually becoming more and more immersed. Then a newcomer to the throne falsely accuses them of dastardly behavior that the mercenary would never engage in, but it haunts our hero until they finally depart the kingdom forever, in search of new adventures. (It sounds sooooo much better than being a freelance editor who ends up full time at an organization, gets crossways with a shifty CFO who becomes the CEO, and then is accused of DEI infractions the shadows of which are impossible to escape, even though they’re completely baseless.)
My second-favorite go-to for times of betrayal is The Witcher, also available as both a book series and TV series. I haven’t read the nine books, and the show has only completed season three of five, so I can’t confirm how satisfying the ending is yet. But I’m going to warn you now: There are some likeable characters who seem to be surviving and might even make it to the end, so this isn’t the same utterly wrenching betrayal dopamine hit as you’ll get from A Song of Ice and Fire.
My third-favorite go-to is a piece of artwork you really love. Mine is pictured above. My dear friend Peter Manion painted it during a period of betrayal that we happened to share. What I love about it is that there are solid bright-pink lines of hope … but you can’t see them until you really get up close and immerse yourself in the angry black blotches and slashes.
On a more serious note, my heart goes out to everyone who is feeling betrayed right now, especially on the national political stage. Here is just one tiny example. I encourage you to push through the stage of not wanting to talk about it quickly. That stage sucks. I really like the advice in this podcast episode—which is not directly about betrayal but rather about talking with kids about challenging topics like losing your house in a fire. I find the direct messages about making mistakes, learning from them, and moving on to be universal for all ages and relationships.
