I Can’t Believe He Did That: Betrayal Trauma and Betrayal Blindness

When was the last time someone betrayed you in a serious way?

The harm was profound, possibly life-changing. You may have felt the whole thing was, in some way, your own fault. Maybe you even let it go (again), or minimized the betrayal. When we are egregiously betrayed in childhood, we often do not remember or frame the hurtful experience as betrayal for years, even decades.

 That relational history, encoded in the body-brain-spirit, often establishes an unconscious organization of experience. Betrayed children rarely are able to identify the abuser clearly if that abuser is a parent or other caregiver. We depend on our caregivers for survival: if something is wrong, it’s often safer for a child to believe that she is the problem; it’s her fault. This is more tolerable than believing the parents upon whom our survival depends are irresponsibly harming and endangering us.

 If we have been betrayed by adults during childhood and had to dissociate from that reality in order to survive (ie continue to belong to our family) then one of our earliest behavioural adaptations is making room to be betrayed. We learn how to survive betrayal: paradoxically and painfully this makes us easier to victimize next time. Because we even know how to forget about it or ignore it . . . Years later, we may find ourselves choosing unreliable and even abusive partners and friends. Betrayal becomes part of regular life.  

 If we are adults and know we’ve been betrayed, sometimes the shock of betrayal will lead us to question the reality of the betrayal itself. This confusion about reality may be used by the person responsible: if we try to talk to them about how they betrayed us, they may accuse us of exaggerating or lying. Unsure of ourselves, we might even agree with them, especially if they have financial or emotional power over us.

What a complicated tangle of emotions and experiences!

Writing this blog post stirs up my own history of betrayal trauma, so I use self-touch and grounding awareness—feeling into my feet on the floor—to take care of myself.    

 As you read, if you feel a little or a lot triggered ( upset, or breathless or disconnected, you might want to take a moment, step away from the screen, and put one hand gently on your forehead and the other hand on your heart or stomach—wherever it feels more comforting, a cradling. Then switch it—one hand to cheek / throat / base of the head and the other one to the stomach or solar plexus. Gentle, mindful self-touch allows these nerve-laden areas of the body to feel supported. We can even rock back and forth or hum to accompany the touches.

 If you’ve betrayed someone and are trying to figure out why, this post is also for you, because serious betrayal in any form may have its roots in our own childhood experiences of endangerment and abuse. (If we have betrayed someone, even without knowing it, we can make amends .  .  . Something I will write about in another post.)

 If you’ve ever been abused or hurt, and asked (or are still asking) yourself the questions below, you may be experiencing the aftermath of Betrayal Trauma and a related experience, known as Betrayal Blindness. We can define betrayal blindness an un-awareness or inability to recognize an experience of personal betrayal.

 *How could they do this to me?

*What is going on?

*How could she/he/they do that to me?

*Did that really happen?

*What is wrong with me?

*Why am I so sensitive?

*Why can’t I just let it go?

 An important part of my training as a psychotherapist who specializes in trauma and the body is my ongoing education in betrayal trauma theory and betrayal blindness.

 For over a quarter of a century, betrayal trauma theory has been developed and elaborated through the meticulous research and in-depth therapeutic practice of Jennifer Freyd (and colleagues, notably Pamela Birrell). Freyd is a clinical psychologist and now professor emeritus at the University of Oregon. Her books Betrayal Trauma and Blind to Betrayal have been indispensible in my own understanding of how people betray, how we can heal from betrayal, and how we may support others who’ve experienced Betrayal Trauma.

 As a therapist who often works with betrayal trauma and blindness, one of the first steps I take is to help people believe, fully, that what happened to them really happened, and that it was serious harm.

 It might seem obvious, but believing we’ve been betrayed may be one of the hardest parts of the experience, especially if the betrayal trauma happened when we were children, or when we were particularly vulnerable at the time of the betrayal, emotionally, financially or physically dependent upon the one who betrayed us.

 In my therapy practice, I’ve also observed that many empathic people are ‘chosen’ by abusers for their empathy, which is a form of moral strength. This includes narcissistic and abusive parents, who tend to co-opt the empathy of the most empathic child as their own, turning the child into their own personal ‘empath,’ so the child becomes their emotional and sometimes physical caretaker and confidante. I’ve written about ‘natural empaths’ elsewhere; it’s a topic I’ll return to in another blog.

 In many cultures, emotionally strong people, especially women, tend to be empathic. Society, family and religious institutions expect them to shoulder the emotional underfunctioning and abusiveness of others. Sometimes, though, boys and men are also chosen to play this role . . .

 Even when we begin to recognize the reality and the depth of betrayal, it is still hard to believe that it actually happened. This is often because we love and need those who have betrayed us. Instead of confronting, blaming or escaping them, it may be safer to forget, minimize, or block out the abuse. As I briefly mentioned before, once this pattern of coping and defending ourselves is set in childhood, we may use it again in adulthood. Freyd’s and other researchers’ extensive research shows that those who were betrayed in childhood are more likely to be betrayed  again in adulthood, in part because we have learned to form relationships with people who are inclined to betray, use or abuse others.

 I repeat the childhood-adulthood link because it’s so important. Betrayal may feel familiar in our bodies; it may almost feel almost ‘comfortable’ or strangely familiar, and be accompanied by a sense that even though the person has betrayed us, they also really need us, so we have to remain in relationship with them. In my own experience, that sense of “oh, of course this is just how people behave when they’re stressed, or upset” contributed to my own betrayal blindness.

 I’ll tell that personal story in my next blog post. I’ve spoken about it publicly on a couple of podcasts, and shared a little about it on social media. However, I’ve never written it out and ‘published’ it. So my next blog--sharing my own adult experience of betrayal trauma and betrayal blindness with a close friend--will be a courageous step for me.

 Telling your story to people who believe and support you is one of the most important parts of recovering from betrayal trauma.  In my next post, I’ll share some of the other important and protective steps we can take when we’ve suffered a betrayal.

Author and therapist Karen Connelly smiling into the camera, despite a shitload of betrayals! Red tiled roof in the background. Image from Lesvos, Greece.