Betrayal: The Break That Never Goes Away
- Vanessa Gillier

- Aug 17, 2025
- 5 min read

Some wounds are loud. Others are quiet, almost invisible, but they alter everything. Betrayal is one of those wounds that breaks us and reverberates. Whether it comes from a partner, friend, parent, or even a system that promised protection, betrayal strikes at the root: trust. And the fallout can feel like you're being shattered into a thousand pieces.
Betrayal is a soul-deep rupture. It’s not just a broken promise or a lie - it’s the collapse of something we thought was safe. And often leaves us questioning everything: our judgment, our worth, even our reality. It hits hard because it often comes from someone we trusted. That trust wasn’t given lightly. It was built over time, brick by brick. And when it’s shattered, it rearranges us.
Betrayal trauma is real. It triggers the same stress responses as other forms of psychological trauma: hypervigilance, emotional numbness, intrusive thoughts, insomnia. Sometimes, the pain of betrayal cuts so deeply because it confirms a core wound we already carry, like “I’m not lovable,” or “People always leave,” or “I can’t trust anyone.” It can erode our ability to connect with others or trust ourselves.
Suddenly, we’re on high alert. We doubt our intuition. We replay conversations. We carry around a gnawing sense that we missed something obvious, that we should have seen it coming. But that’s the lie betrayal tells: that it was somehow our fault. That if we were smarter, tougher, or more guarded, we could have prevented it.
Some people shut down. Some rage. Some rationalize or minimize to keep the peace. Others spiral into shame, replaying what happened over and over, looking for the moment they “should have known better.” All of these are valid trauma responses. They don’t mean you’re weak or broken. They mean you’re human, trying to survive the emotional equivalent of an earthquake.
You might notice:
Emotional numbness — A fog that settles in because feeling everything would be too much.
Hypervigilance — Watching for signs, bracing for the next hit.
Self-blame — A desperate attempt to regain control by assuming responsibility.
Distrust — Of others, but more painfully, of yourself.
Overfunctioning or underfunctioning — Some of us go into hyperdrive to distract from the pain; others can’t get out of bed.
Betrayal doesn’t just hurt, it unravels. And part of healing is acknowledging how you’re coming undone, without judgment.
Healing from betrayal isn’t about snapping back or pretending we’re okay. It’s about slowing down enough to feel the rupture. It’s about grieving what we lost. Not just the person or the relationship, but also the version of ourselves that believed we were safe.
Sometimes healing means setting boundaries. Sometimes it means cutting ties. And sometimes it means staying, but with new clarity and hard-earned honesty.
One of the hardest things about betrayal is the way it disconnects us from ourselves. We second-guess, self-blame, and shut down. But healing begins when we turn inward with compassion. When we say, “You didn’t deserve this,” or “You were doing your best with what you knew,” we begin to rebuild the most important trust of all, the trust in ourselves.
From that foundation, we can begin to rebuild trust in others. Slowly. Carefully. On our own terms.
Start by validating your reality. Betrayal has a gaslighting effect. It makes you question what you saw, what you felt, and whether it was ever real. Ground yourself by writing what happened, how it made you feel, and what truths you know deep down. Don’t minimize. This is your story. Not the polished version. The real one.
Get curious about your response. Were you the one who kept giving chances? Did you go numb and pretend nothing happened? Did you cut the person off cold? However you responded, it made sense at the time. It was your nervous system doing its best to protect you. Don’t turn your survival into another shame story.
Focus on safety, not solutions. Before you rush to forgive, fix, or figure it all out—ask yourself: Where do I feel safest right now? That might be in solitude. It might be in therapy. It might be in writing, movement, prayer, or simply letting yourself be angry without apology. Healing starts in safety, not strategy.
Rebuild trust internally. Betrayal often fractures the relationship we have with ourselves. We wonder: Why didn’t I see this? Why did I stay? Why did I let it happen again? These questions are part of grief. But they’re also part of control. We think if we can find the “mistake,” we can prevent it next time. Truth is: vulnerability is not a mistake. Trusting someone is not a mistake. Being hurt does not mean you were stupid. It means you were open. And that deserves tenderness, not self-punishment.
Let the anger come. And then let it move. Anger is often a secondary emotion. Underneath it might be grief, disappointment, fear. But anger is also protective. It rises when our boundaries are violated. Don't be afraid of it. Channel it - into art, into movement, into saying what was never said. You don’t have to be polite about your pain.
If you’re navigating betrayal, you’re not weak for being affected. You’re not overreacting. You’re not broken. You’re a human being responding to a deep wound. And you deserve time, space, and support to heal.
If you're a friend or family member watching someone you care about being betrayed, it can be painful. But you can’t rescue someone from a betrayal they’re not ready to acknowledge. Often times, they do know. Deep down. They just aren’t ready to face the consequences of naming it.
Sometimes the hardest truth is this: the person you love might not be ready to leave, change, or even acknowledge the betrayal. That doesn’t mean you failed them. That doesn’t mean they’re lost forever. It means they’re still on their journey, and you can’t walk it for them.
But you can walk alongside them. Quietly. Steadily. Compassionately. Until the day they turn and say, “I see it now.” And when they do, they’ll remember who stood with them in the dark.
The truth is, things are never quite the same after betrayal. And that’s okay. No one gets through life without scars. But some scars are maps - reminders of where we’ve been, and how far we’ve come. Putting yourself back together isn’t about returning to what was. It’s about becoming someone new. Someone wiser, softer, stronger, and still open.
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