I. The Shadow’s Approach

The shadow of betrayal first crept in
During those holy days of contemplation,
When Good Friday’s weight hung upon the air
And Easter Sunday promised resurrection not yet realized.
But truth reveals its timeline in retrospect—
These wounds began forming ten months ago,
When my son’s trauma unveiled the first thread
In this tapestry of deception.

The emptiness carves hollows in your chest
Where trust once resided, comfortable and warm.
Lies stack like stones forming a wall
Between what you believed and what was real.
Jesus walked this path before us all,
Betrayed by those disciples who broke bread beside him.
This ancient pattern repeats through human history,
A daily occurrence wearing different masks.

II. Recognizing the Pattern

It’s only when you step away from the shadows
That you begin to see the pattern of disrespect
You’ve silently permitted to flourish.
Not merely in their lies—though those cut deep—
But in my own dishonesty with myself,
The feelings stuffed down and buried,
The intuition silenced with rational excuses,
The body’s warnings ignored for comfort’s sake.

I was never really honest with what I felt
In all those interactions that depleted me.
The advantage they took wasn’t theft but exchange—
I offered my worth for their fleeting approval,
A transaction I signed with my silence.
Not because they forced this bargain upon me,
But because I enabled it with each return,
Each time I suffocated my feelings with forgiveness.

III. The Architecture of Self-Betrayal

I pretended the slights didn’t exist,
Constructed elaborate excuses for their behavior,
And with an extremely so-called forgiving heart,
I repeatedly returned to situations that diminished me,
Disrespectful encounters that never valued my presence,
Relationships that didn’t genuinely care for my well-being.
Fear of solitude became my prison guard,
Keeping me captive in cycles of disrespect.

You tolerate increasingly severe violations
Until you reach that final plateau—
A psychological summit where the air grows thin,
Where the final betrayal blow lands with such force
That your entire constructed reality collapses.
But this catastrophic moment was never sudden;
It was built methodically, brick by brick,
While I watched the wall rise but called it a home.

IV. The Crescendo of Disrespect

Betrayal doesn’t begin with the killing blow;
It starts with a series of disrespectful shockwaves,
Small tremors you dismiss as imagination,
Warning signals you rationalize away.
You return again and again and again,
Six times, seven times, infinite returns,
Each homecoming shorter than the last,
Each departure more painful yet necessary.

Until one fine day arrives with terrible clarity—
They deliver the final blow so devastating
That it has been building momentum for months,
Perhaps years, gathering force while you stood,
Eyes averted from the approaching storm.
You never noticed the darkening sky,
Or perhaps you did but called it passing weather,
Enabling the hurricane that would eventually destroy you.

V. The Breathless Aftermath

The big final blow leaves you gasping for air,
Lungs refusing to function in this new reality.
The damage creates a vacuum of such magnitude
That no oxygen seems sufficient to sustain life.
It’s so profoundly bad, so deeply disgusting,
That language itself becomes inadequate,
No words could possibly articulate the hurt,
Or describe the revulsion at such betrayal.

The lies stand naked now, grotesque and undeniable,
Yet there exist no combinations of sounds
That could possibly respond to such depravity.
You become heightened in awareness,
Elevated to a new plane of understanding,
Where you finally recognize that silence
And walking away remain the only dignified options,
The only responses that preserve what’s left of self.

VI. The Sacred Silence

This is when you discover the power in remaining silent,
Not from weakness but from profound strength.
The damage speaks volumes without your voice,
Their actions have said everything necessary.
You reach a certain heightened awareness
That transcends the need for confrontation or closure.
Some betrayals deserve only your absence,
Some wounds heal only in the space you create by leaving.

Like Jesus in his final hours before the cross,
There is wisdom in choosing when not to speak,
When to carry your burden in dignified silence,
When to let the actions of others condemn themselves.
The disgusting behavior, the web of deception—
They require no further exposition from you.
Words would only diminish the gravity of truth,
Would only entangle you further in their narrative.

VII. Resurrection of Self

After Good Friday comes the waiting period,
The silent Saturday when hope seems buried.
But resurrection follows for those who endure,
Not as a return to what was, but transformation.
When betrayal strips away the comfortable illusions,
It also clears the path for authentic rebirth.
The trauma that began ten months ago with your son
Has completed its circle, returning to teach you both.

The share loss and emptiness create space
For something truer to take residence.
The lies you’ve had to deal with become teachers,
Showing you how to recognize truth in all its forms.
And though betrayal comes on a daily basis
In this wounded world of wounded people,
You now carry the wisdom to see disrespect early,
To honor your feelings as messengers of value.

VIII. The Lesson Written in Scars

When you start to see your worth clearly,
You realize how much disrespect you tolerated.
Not because you deserved such treatment,
But because your fear of abandonment
Created a willingness to accept less than love.
This is the final lesson betrayal teaches:
That loneliness is preferable to diminishment,
That solitude contains more dignity than false company.

The betrayal that felt like ending
Becomes instead a beginning,
A painful threshold crossed into new understanding.
The suffering that seemed meaningless
Reveals itself as the necessary fire
That burned away what was false
So what remains stands purified and strong,
A temple rebuilt on foundations of self-respect.

Now when the shadow of betrayal approaches,
You recognize its familiar silhouette immediately.
Not with fear or resignation,
But with the quiet power of one who knows:
Some people are not worthy of your story,
Some betrayals require only your departure,
Some wounds speak more eloquently in silence,
Than all the words your heart could possibly summon.