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Battling the betrayal blues

“They smile in your face
All the time they want to take your place
The backstabbers (backstabbers)” The O’Jays
My dad likes to tell a story of my 4-year-old reaction to my first visit to Lima’s Plaza de Armas back in the early 70s(before the city and park underwent a necessary rejuvenation.) He said there were several homeless people, many of them begging for spare change, and one woman bathing in the fountain before the police grabbed her.  He said I looked around and told him I wanted to help each person.  He said I asked why we couldn’t do that.  I may not remember this incident but I know that my call to help others has shaped who I am and what I do for a living. 
I lose sight of my purpose now and then. Sometimes the people I have helped have disappointed me or hurt me.  This is especially hard when those I have mentored are the culprits. 
Julius Caesar
Macbeth
Frankenstein
I have weathered ingratitude and betrayal on many levels:  stifled communication, verbal aggression, attacks on my reputation through gossip and lies. 
All About Eve
My (trifling) relative still tells various extended family members how cold and aloof I have become towards her over the years even though I paid her debt to a creditor.  Sometimes, all the unnecessary drama makes me want to give up on others altogether.  Pero no pueden conmigo.  I can’t and won’t change who I am because of others.
Forgiveness doesn’t come easy to me. It takes me weeks, months, years, even decades of reflection and prayer. It takes all my strength to remain civil and calm when I see these few people who have betrayed my trust.  It takes a sense of humor and optimism. It takes a commitment to self-care.  I move forward and continue reaching out the way I always have.    

The problem with Sea Monkeys


(All group and individual names have been changed)

When I was seven years old, the back cover of the Archie or Richie Rich comics often featured an ad for Sea Monkeys.  You opened a packet into a bowl of water and splash! Instant pets! I sent away for them once. The little shrimp looked like brown sprinkles of cinnamon or cumin, not like the ad’s images at all. They died within days.  The experience didn’t stop me from sending away for toys and trinkets advertised on comics or cereal boxes. But I learned that friends don’t appear by simply adding water.

Fast forward a decade and a few years to college. I was one of many cute Candy Store Girls, a cashier/clerk at the University’s Student Store in the candy and greeting card department. The CS girls were all cute and friendly, either Latina or Asian, some also members of the same sorority, all of us a tight-knit group that liked to drink, dance, and blast disco music while we stocked the Jelly Bellies and wrapped up truffles for our clientele of harried professors, starving students, and Berkeley’s most famous eccentrics and/or celebrities (Rick Starr, the Naked Guy, Jason Kidd).  Soon, the CS Girls became managers and only hired their friends.  But once in a while, the non-student management weighed in and that is how Cheryl got a coveted spot in our department. 

Cheryl was not your typical CS girl. She was a mousy little freshman with straight brown hair, small green eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles on her button nose. She hailed from a small town in the Central Valley and wore t-shirts in neutral colors and faded jeans over white canvas sneakers. We got to know each other over curling ribbon on the quarter pound bags of candy.  I could tell she was overwhelmed by our campus so I gave her advice on classes and the best places to study.  In gratitude, she bought me a Chinese fast food dinner. 

From that first work day together, Cheryl became my loyal new friend. She wanted to know everything about me. She wanted to meet me outside of work to hang out at a café or share a meal.  I was a first-year grad student so I was busy with my two jobs, coursework, and student-teaching but she would call me on the phone when I declined her invitations. I liked her and wanted to support her. Soon, her behavior went from charming to irritating. She wanted to know all about Peruvian culture and food and asked if she could meet my family some weekend.  She loved my clothes and shoes so she went out and bought her own.   When she started chatting up my ex-boyfriend Julius, a security guard at the campus store notorious for his womanizing ways, I really became disturbed. The other CS girls joked that I was just jealous but they had not experienced Cheryl’s neediness the way I had.

One afternoon, I stopped in to check the schedule.  Cheryl presented me with a tissue-wrapped object.  It was a simple sterling silver ring. She proclaimed me her best friend. Freaked out, I made an excuse and left.  I threw the ring away and stopped taking Cheryl’s calls.  Within days, there was an awkward conversation at work in which she focused on Julius as the problem between us.   In delayed response, I wrote her a note requesting that she leave me alone.   If we worked a shift together, we did so in relative silence.  Eventually, she took a position in a different department and I never saw her again. 

Sometimes I wonder if I wasn’t too harsh with Cheryl.  She was younger than me. She really needed a friend. She wasn’t a terrible person, just lonely.  I could not and did not want to live up to her expectations. I can only hope that she learned that friendship doesn’t happen in an instant. 

Choosing sides


“Well there’s a dark and troubled side to life
There’s a bright and a sunny side, too
Though we meet with the darkness and strife, 
The sunny side we also may view”  From “Keep on the Sunny Side” 
“That crazy needs to stay on the other side of the room from this kind of crazy.” Me, in conversation with Blues, circa 2012

Happiness is hard work.  Life doesn’t turn into the finale from Hair in which everyone sings and dances to “Let the Sunshine In” simply out of personal desire. I spent a significant part of my life unhappy, both because of my choices and because of my nature.  My journey towards my present state of happiness took effort, emotion, time, and, yes, lots of money.  So I fight to stay happy. 

Blues says I am a chameleon. I can blend into my surroundings.  I adapt to different situations. He says these qualities make me likable and appealing to all kinds of people.  He also says it renders me rather passive and complacent.  I argue that I may be non-confrontational but that, first and foremost, I will focus on survival.  Analogies aside, I will stop being congenial and approachable as needed for my own safety. 

I have lost a few friends in recent years. Once I would have loyally hung in there through someone’s failed attempts at recovery or someone’s refusal to take personal responsibility to seek healing. I would have rationalized or ignored my own feelings and fears.  Eventually I would be dragged down with my loved one, my own battles exacerbated, intensified, and deepened, theirs never fully resolved. Thankfully, and with great pain, I learned to value myself over others. I accepted that I could walk away from unhealthy behaviors and situations and still be a person of integrity. I took responsibility for my own illness and chose to be healed. 

The birth of my daughter cemented my commitment to happiness. My child is a constant reminder of all the beauty and joy in the universe. Through a hug from her little arms or the lullabies sung in her thin little voice, she is the embodiment of grateful mindfulness that I aspire to and also enjoy.  She teaches me that a life of happiness is truly living. 

Happiness can be ephemeral, fleeting, and tenuous.  Daily life has its complications. I cannot control anything but my own response to what happens. So I choose happiness.