We meet for coffee

We meet for coffee.

It hurts.

The one person I thought I could confide in, who encouraged me to confide with promises that it would not change anything and that it wasn’t “too much.”

Promises that turn out to be empty and false.

Tentative attempts to talk rebuffed with “you need to trust God more.”

I feel afresh the shame, the regret, the feelings that it was wrong to talk so ingrained for so many years by similar events…tell someone, ask for help, they promise it will be okay, they disappear and become distant.

The tip, though, happened…at church. The person who had done a Bible study with me every Saturday, who had slipped in and sat next to me Sunday after Sunday for over a year stopped acknowledging me. The irony being because I thought she was busy with the children’s care during church, I didn’t even know…until she told me she sat behind me one Sunday (via email), and yet had made no attempt to contact me…no touch on the shoulder as she passed behind me, not one word before I slipped out, nothing.

Then the comments from others like “are you ever going to be okay?” began to take on new meaning and pain.

And if I get an email, phrases like “I hope you’re okay emotionally” ring false and sting.

Once a month we meet for coffee, if she remembers.

It hurts.

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