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Betrayal trauma is one of the hidden truths of trauma, frequently swept under the rug, often misunderstood, and rarely given the clinical attention it deserves. Yet the emotional and physiological impact of betrayal by someone we deeply trust can mirror the symptoms of PTSD: flashbacks, triggers, sleep disturbances, hypervigilance, emotional dysregulation, and chronic anxiety.
So, what is betrayal trauma? Betrayal trauma occurs when a person experiences a significant breach of trust by someone with whom they share a close, personal relationship, such as a spouse, caregiver, family member, or institutional figure. Goldsmith, Chesney, Heath, and Barlow (2013), writing in the Journal of Traumatic Stress, note that betrayal trauma, when the perpetrator is someone close, is more strongly associated with symptoms of anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress than trauma caused by a distant or unknown person. The proximity of the relationship intensifies the injury (p. 376). To explore this topic more personally, I sat down with Megan, a fellow intern at Community Recovery Counseling Center and a graduate student specializing in trauma. Megan shared her lived experience of betrayal trauma following her husband’s affair, a disclosure that occurred less than a year ago. Although some might see that as “in the past,” trauma does not operate on a fixed timeline. “People were rushing me to make decisions when I could barely think clearly,” Megan shared. “I felt like my senses were overloaded, I wasn’t ready to take action because I hadn’t even had time to process what had happened.” This is a crucial truth for supporters, friends, or professionals working with those navigating betrayal trauma: give people room to breathe. Trauma affects cognition, memory, and executive functioning. Pressuring someone to "decide" before they’ve processed is often counterproductive. Megan emphasized another key point: not all betrayals lead to separation. In her case, she and her husband chose to remain together and pursue therapy. That decision, however, didn’t erase the pain or restore trust overnight. “Some people say trust never fully returns,” she said. “Right now, it’s too early for me to know. But I do know that rebuilding it is a long process.” From the betrayer’s side, there must be patience and accountability. As Megan put it, “You can’t just say, ‘That was a year ago, aren’t you over it yet?’ It doesn’t work like that. The wound is significant, and reminders, anniversaries, behaviors, or triggers, can send someone right back to that original moment of pain.” One recent example Megan shared involved her husband reactivating a Facebook account. What seemed like a minor action triggered intense anxiety for her. “I found myself spiraling, wondering who he might be talking to. I didn’t even realize I was being triggered until the anger hit. My body knew before I did.” This illustrates how trauma can live in the body, even when the mind believes it’s “moved on.” It’s also important to dismantle a common myth: that infidelity is always about sex. “Sometimes it’s not about intimacy at all,” Megan explained. “It can be about emotional neglect, loneliness, or disconnection, someone looking for attention or validation they weren’t getting at home. And one thing leads to another.” Despite being educated in trauma and mental health, Megan still struggled deeply. She was juggling motherhood, graduate school, and the overwhelming emotional aftermath of betrayal. The psychological impact was visible, her concentration was fragmented, her emotions volatile, especially as the anniversary of the affair neared. Even with insight and training, trauma doesn’t discriminate. “Now imagine how much harder this would be for someone without that knowledge,” I reflected. “Someone who might assume they’re overreacting or going crazy. Someone who doesn’t know that the emotional fallout of betrayal can mimic PTSD.” This is why naming betrayal trauma matters. When we fail to name it, we minimize its effects. We leave people questioning their reality. Victims may internalize blame, believing the betrayal was their fault or that they somehow caused it. As Goldsmith et al. (2013) point out, trauma within trusted systems (e.g., family, school, military) can lead victims to suppress valid emotions like anger and sadness and adopt maladaptive beliefs, including that they deserved the betrayal (p. 376). Healing takes time. It requires honesty, support, and safe spaces. One of Megan’s greatest strengths was her willingness to be honest, with herself, with trusted friends, and with the process. She gave herself permission to grieve, to rage, to doubt, and to question. And in doing so, she started to heal. For those experiencing betrayal trauma, know this: your pain is real. You are not overreacting. And you don’t have to rush your healing. Whether you choose to stay in the relationship or not, what matters most is that you honor your own timeline, and that you give yourself space to understand what’s happened to you, and how to move forward from it. If this post resonated with you, we invite you to explore additional resources on trauma, relational healing, and post-traumatic growth. You can also check out the article referenced above: Goldsmith, R. E., Chesney, S. A., Heath, N. M., & Barlow, M. R. (2013). Emotion regulation difficulties mediate associations between betrayal trauma and symptoms of posttraumatic stress, depression, and anxiety. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 26(3), 376–384. https://doi.org/10.1002/jts.21819
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