I was the monster in her story

She was my friend. Or so I thought. 

This July marks two years since I met her for drinks late one evening. Totally casual. Spontaneous. 

We'd been trying to get together for a few months, but life had kept getting in the way. 

During our chat that night, I brought something up that worried me for her. It was a bit of a confrontation, but I was coming from a place of care, from a place of "if this was me I'd want my trusted friend to bring this straight to me and talk to me about it". 

I wasn't expecting the immediate angry reaction and defense I got or the really awkward parting in the parking lot. 

The next day we talked on the phone and I thought we left that conversation hearing each other's hearts. Like, we're good... whew. Again... so I thought. 

Until a month or two later, it came back to me that she'd been meeting people for coffee or messaging people just to tell them how I'd attacked her. To "be careful about Kelvin's wife". 

She was a victim and I was an absolute monster. 

Imagine how STUNNED I felt. Yo chat, is this real??? 

But because of how sensitive the whole situation was, I kept it all to myself. The only two people who knew anything about what was happening were Kelvin and a trusted friend in another state. 

As the months stretched on and we'd pass each other every Sunday, knowing the way she was secretly campaigning lies about me, the weight of it all just grew heavier and heavier… and heavier.

People started treating me differently because of the things they heard about me and instead of defending myself I just went inward even more .... feeling the weight of it all crushing my soul.

Other friendships changed but no one said why. They just didn't text back. Avoided me. 

The space that once felt safe no longer felt safe. The place I thought I belonged in, I no longer did. 

Man. There's hardly anything worse than betrayal. 

When I'm betrayed, it takes me YEARS to recover. 

That betrayal seemed to lead to more betrayals. Because when you’re hurt, that hurt spreads. The worst was believed about me, so now I was believing the worst about everyone else. 

People I'd really trusted, it felt like they betrayed me in other inadvertent ways. 

“You can’t trust anyone here. It was all a lie,” my inner narrative began to collect piles of evidence to prosecute others and protect myself. 

I’d tell myself I was ok, who cares what she’s telling everyone, who cares what people think. I’m fine. 

But I wasn’t fine. I was bleeding, and the hurt kept isolating me.  

This hurt triggered the deep wounds of being the awkward girl that no one wanted to play with. Once again I was the girl banging on the locked door while the others giggled and ate all the candy. 

A few months ago, after more than a year of carrying this heavy heavy weight, another woman asked to have lunch with me. 

Over Indian curry she told me, "Hey you probably don't know this but I was warned about you by (she who shall not be named) and I'm so sorry I didn't come to you sooner... and now I got burned by her, too." 

I felt validated, but I also wept on the drive home because the weight had been on me for soooo long and I never got to defend myself. 

I guess it's true what they say: the truth always comes out in the end. 

And the woman I'd once considered a friend is hurting and on her own journey, so the more time that passes, the less the betrayal stings and the more I realize hurt people hurt people... and defending myself doesn't matter so much anymore.

But I'm also still healing.

For a while I've felt an awful cynicism hardening me and I hate it. Seeing what’s happening in the world doesn’t help, either. It all looks like a giant dumpster fire and it makes me rage. BURN IT ALL DOWN. TRUST NO ONE.

But this is not the Meg I am. 

The real Meg is weird and goofy and lighthearted and loving and naively optimistic, not distrustful and raging. She makes friends easily and loves people and gives so much grace to others. She is light and love. She’s an adventure and she invites people along for the ride. She’s the poppy flower growing through a crack in the concrete. She’s also bold in her advocacy, not afraid to speak the truth because the truth (in grace) breaks generational chains. 

How do I get HER back? 

But if I get her back, will I be too trusting and get betrayed again? 

Yeah - maybe - probably. 

But living with a hard heart is no way to live, I’ve decided. 

I wasn’t created to live in the shadows, hiding behind a shield, afraid of getting burnt. 

So I’m going to keep showing up to keep healing, one step at a time. 

Let the hurt heal into compassion. 

Let the rage alchemize into wisdom. 

Let the fear melt into love.

Let me really live this one wild and precious life.