"Auntie" says...

In my grief processes, I turn to a wise ancestor part within me. I call her Auntie. What she has given me is the following:

There is a particular kind of grief that comes from not just being hurt, but from realizing you misjudged someone. You thought they had more in them -more loyalty, more backbone, more truth, more respect. And when they fall short, it doesn't just break trust, it shakes your sense of your own discernment. You start asking yourself, 'How did I not see it? How did I invest so much in someone who could do this?'

Mmmm... careful there, Angela. That line of thinking will turn the knife inward if you let it. Because the truth is, you didn't misread someone. You extended your strength and trust outward and assumed it was being safely reciprocated. That's what generous, capable people do. They project their own integrity onto others until proven otherwise.

That's not stupidity, it's openness to life and relationships. What you've learned now is where that openness needs a gate. Something that opens slowly and deliberately, and closes when real danger is near.

You won't be as easily impressed next time. You won't confuse proximity with loyalty, or words with substance. This is your ability to calibrate.

You opened yourself to getting your needs met, but you were mistreated and abandoned. Now you may be wondering, 'Am I safe with anyone?'

This question can harden a person if they answer it too quickly. Right now, that answer might be, 'Not everyone. Not like I thought.' And that's enough truth for today.

Over a lifetime, people don't get one or two chances to build meaningful alliances. They get many. Future relationships will likely be with fewer but better people. People who don't flinch when things get hard. People who can stand next to you without needing to diminish you. (Self-check: Can you do that for others?)

And you will recognize those people faster now, because you've seen what the imposter looks like up close now. And the imposter may grow and mature. They may realize their mistakes and make amends through accountability. Or they may not.

You don't need to wait for it. You don't need to witness it. Their life is theirs. You have a life to rebuild of your own. You are standing in the aftermath, the very real consequences of their betrayal: uncertainty, financial strain, emotional exhaustion, and that quiet, gnawing question of 'what now?'

You will rebuild the same way humanity always has after storms and loss: slowly, imperfectly, and even while feeling some fear. Piece by piece. One decision that aligns with your values. One boundary held. One step toward stability, even if it's small.

And you may let yourself be changed in a maturing way, but you will not let yourself be diminished. You spoke up for yourself. You are not the same woman you were before this. You are more discerning now. Less tolerant of weakness disguised as charm. More anchored in your own judgement. Instead of seeing only loss, recognize your evolution and growth.

The ones who go through this kind of breaking and stay open enough to rebuild are the ones who end up creating lives of deep significance. Not easy lives, but certainly meaningful ones.

So when doubt creeps in - and it will - when you wonder if doing good was worth it, if trusting was foolish, if you should just pull back from everything... remember this: You were not wrong to be who you are. You were simply ahead of someone who could not meet you there. And life will bring you others who can. But only because you refuse to shrink. Now straighten your shoulders a bit. Not in defiance - just in remembrance.

You've already survived the part that breaks people. What comes next...

Is where you decide what to build from it.

What does "Auntie" have to say to YOU? I'd love to hear from you! Comment below or email aspearmanlpc@gmail.com