What 40 Years of Friendship Couldn’t Teach Me (But Betrayal Did)
I've lately found myself lingering on the concept of friendship, especially the definition of "best friends." I struggle with those words every time I say them now. On one hand, they define the importance of the person who filled that role for so long—my best friend of 40 years, the maid of honor in my wedding. On the other hand, they describe someone who orchestrated my betrayal. Someone whose actions upon discovery caused me to feel unsafe enough to live in hiding for 3 months, made me temporarily question whether I was even worth taking up space on this earth, and left dents on my body and soul that I am still recovering from.
Since age 15, I deeply valued this particular friendship, and strived to be worthy of the important place I thought I had in my best friend’s life over the years. I was consistent. I was there through her challenges and celebrated her joys. I was imperfect (we all are) but I loved her fiercely and without reservation. I had her back even when I did not always agree with her. I never spoke ill of her, and defended her if others did. I trusted her with my deepest secrets and insecurities, and I believed that was mutual. I took joy in her friendship with my husband, because I trusted both with my life and heart. I never saw it coming from either one, but especially not from her.
The hardest thing about my betrayal wasn't the affair itself, or even that there were three people involved in shredding the life I thought I had (a third friend of same length was involved as well). It was realizing that I was worthless to people that for years I thought valued me. That someone I had called a best friend would believe the lies of another about my character over the real me I had shown her for over 40 years. That I would have taken a bullet for people who could be okay with tearing me down while smiling and saying they loved me—all in the name of a thrill and an ego boost. The hardest thing was knowing I was a game—a person to exploit to those I had given my trust, loyalty and heart to for a very long time. Knowing that in the end, I wasn’t even a person to these people I had loved— I was simply collateral damage in a conquest for validation and power.
But here's what I didn't expect: my betrayal became a turning point to finding myself and re-learning the meaning of love and friendship. The kind of betrayal I endured doesn’t just hurt. It teaches. Deeply. I went the lengths for "friends" who would never go the length for me. Never again.
The saying "to have a friend, you must be a friend" has never meant more to me than it does now. I questioned everything after my betrayal. I have learned so much—not only about better choosing who I would share the most memorable moments of my one precious life with, but also about how to better be that for someone else. I've learned that there is so much more to true friendship than length of connection and shared happy moments. That depth surpasses length. That caring for others’ hearts is every bit as important as caring for my own. And I've learned to walk away when friends hurt me, and then question who I really am or suggest I deserved harm, rather than seeking to make things right.
What Friendship Is NOT:
Friendship does not keep score or punish
A friend is not swayed by the narrative of those who speak badly of you for their own gain, no matter how charismatic the person is
Friends will never consider your world, your time, your spouse—a competitive free for all
Friends will never make a choice to hurt you then ask you to forgive them in order to erase the harm
A friend will never silence you or minimize your pain
Friendship is not constantly questioning whether you're doing enough, whether what you say and do will land right, or having maintenance and repair land more on you
What Friendship IS:
Friendship recognizes and values integrity and loyalty
Friends will actively repair damage, even when the process is difficult and lengthy
A friend does not always have to receive
Friends defend you when faced with those who harm you—they don't sit silent, or worse, get swayed to join in
Friends see you as valuable and worthy of love, not as an annoying person full of shortcomings to criticize or take advantage of
True friends know how to celebrate others and lift them up without criticizing, judging, competing, keeping tabs, or one-upping
Real friends will never harm another person no matter the pressure, and will step in if they witness it no matter how uncomfortable
Friendship is sacred
My best friends now are women I already knew and considered friends before, but who showed me what friendship safety really looks like—something I had never known before. These friends banded together and paid my bills for a month while I was awaiting a divorce settlement and couldn't make ends meet. They were there with me through immeasurable grief without being uncomfortable or correcting me. These friends organized a signing event to celebrate my recently published book, and the place will be packed. These friends see the good in me and have NEVER questioned whether I "caused" what someone else did. I am confident the friends I have now do not speak ill of me, even when I am not there to defend myself. They value who I am, who I strive to be, and what I bring to the world. I now know that calm kind of best friendship now, and it's SO much nicer.
I want friends to enjoy the joyful moments of life with—but I also want friends that will sit with me in the depths of despair. And I want friends who know I can be that person for them when necessary. Because that's who I've always strived to be. I just needed friends who valued it.
My best piece of advice is this: if you EVER have that underlying feeling of having to question whether you're doing enough in a friendship, you constantly question whether what you say and do will land right, and friendship maintenance lands more on you—check yourself. (Or if they seem just a little too urgent to get close to the person you are with!) That exhausting vigilance isn't friendship. It's a warning sign. When friends show you who they are, believe them—the good AND the bad. There’s a time in your life when you realize who matters, who never did, who won’t anymore and who always will.
I am lucky now. I love my life and my friends. I don't worry about this happening again, though my guard will always be up. Learning to better recognize red flags in others has been the most difficult but valuable lesson of my life. When you've been deeply wronged by those you deeply loved, the lessons aren't abstract—they're carved into your soul. And they teach you, with absolute clarity, what friendship truly is. To be considered a friend should be an honor and something worth protecting, but to be a best friend is sacred. I have learned what real friendship looks like, and I will never settle for less. Nobody should.