I've never been a very trusting person. Call it the effect of abuse, or living in an environment where most people don't say what they mean, my "friendships" have been few and far between. I also tend to be pretty discerning about people, reading who was "safe" and who was not.
After an especially traumatic life change a few years ago, I was forced to move into an area where I knew no one. Determined to not let anyone into my life, I flew solo a lot, spending time alone and refusing to put myself into a position where I could be hurt again.
During our transition, our family lived temporarily at a local campground. While we were there, we met a family I felt an instant connection with. Call the the effect of campground comfortability or extended periods of time together, our families hit it off very well. I told my friend, "Sarah," that I felt we were pre-determined to be friends for life. I also shared with her that people I considered true friends were people I was faithful to the end with.
She was going through a particularly tough time in her life, too. I remember many long, emotional conversations, encouraging her and listening to her. I tend to see people's strengths, and I like to let them know I see them. I felt in my heart Sarah was a person I could build up - and that someday, she'd do the same for me.
Our lives progressed together. My husband forged a working relationship with her husband. Our kids spent a lot of time getting to know each other, building strong friendships. We hung out, did things together, and shared good and bad times. Others came along, too. We entered into a close, small group of friends who determined to share our lives. It was restorative for me - I began to hope again.
Somewhere along the journey, though, I noticed that Sarah and a couple of the other friends from our group started doing things together, and not inviting me. Whether it was that Sarah was looking for something "more," or she was being influenced by the other women, I don't know. I determined to stay her friend, regardless. As time when on, though, she continued to change - mostly following the shadow of the other women. Eventually, she stopped talking to me, and her world revolved around one of the other women. They were "soul" mates. They thought the same thoughts - "It's amazing to me," she'd say, "I was just thinking something and so was ..." this other friend.
The problem with this relationship Sarah was cultivating was that behind her back, this other woman said judgmental and mean things about Sarah, her husband and their choices. It was wild, because when we were all together, this woman was like, "Oh yeah, Sarah, me, too." about everything. Then, if I saw her and her husband without the others, she'd be calling Sarah's husband unrealistic, or lazy, or whatever.
I didn't say anything to Sarah. I figured, eventually, the truth would come to light. Plus, if I intervened in their relationship, it would look like sour grapes. I wasn't the "favored" friend, and so I was doing anything to hurt their friendship. It was way too junior high for me. So, I simply stayed Sarah's friend.
Often, when this other woman would hurt Sarah, or try to "take over" her life, Sarah would come to me and say, "I'm not going to let ... monopolize my life. My dreams are not her dreams, regardless of what she thinks." Then they would "patch" it up, and Sarah would drop out of my life again. I became the only one pursing conversations. I was the only one making time for our kids to get together. She only called me when she and this other friend weren't talking.
Two years ago, during an especially weak time for me, I called Sarah and simply said, "I know you and this other friend are going to move on. You're going to pursue your dreams, forget about me, and I will be left here, where I don't want to me, while you get to realize all your dreams." She said that would never happen - that we'd always be apart of their lives.
Eventually, Sarah and her family decided to move. They had a variety of "perfect" dreams, going from one thing to another without realizing any of them. The one thing she told me, though, was that she wouldn't move to where this other friend had. "She's lonely and wants me there, but that's not what I want to do." Sarah's husband dreamed of moving out of state, beginning a new life without the baggage of their struggles over the last few years. "A fresh start," she said.
Tonight, I got an e-mail that Sarah and her family are moving right near the other friend. "She's looking for a house for us, and finding really good deals," she said optimistically. Not away like they "said" they dreamed about. Instead, close to the other friend, where Sarah feels safe - and makes her friend happy.
I feel betrayed. Why? Not because it seems like Sarah's family is finally finding a home they will enjoy. Not because the other friend "wins" by having this wonderful family near her. I feel betrayed because I've known for a long time Sarah has not been truthful with me. Or, if she has, she hasn't been truthful with herself.
And I'm unsure if it's me - she's looking for a "cool" friend, and has found one in the unpredictable, emotionally-driven other relationship? Or is it the major turns that our husbands have take from each other? Or is it just I "see" her in ways she doesn't want to see herself? I don't know. One minute she wants stability and "normalcy," the next moment, she wants to be seen as someone free spirited and unique.
All I know is that I left myself open to friendship, and got totally left behind. We still continue the pretense of friendship. When I do see her, we have a good time - as long as I avoid certain subjects. And I still admire her and love her. But I'll never trust her again. In fact, I've decided that Sarah was my "last chance" at having one of those sister-type, life long friendships. Apparently the "depth" she felt with me was only a temporary thing until she found her new soul mate. I'm still trying to figure it all out.
So now, I've sealed my soul again. I will treat Sarah just like most people I know. I'm a friendly-kind of person, but what you see is someone adept at getting people to talk about themselves, without revealing too much of who I am. And, like most people, Sarah is good with that anymore - she doesn't even notice.
Betrayal has many levels. Subtle as it may be, my experience with Sarah has taught me that it's best not to be too open with someone. I know people who have deep, meaningful friendships. But my experience has been that it's best to keep who you are deep within - the pain isn't worth the gain in this instance.