BETRAYAL

I was sitting quietly at my desk one day, in the fourth grade, when I was summoned to the door by two of the eighth grade "patrol boys" and hustled off to the principal's office. There I was grilled about a report that I had taken a hat from a little boy in the second grade. At first I was both terrified and puzzled about the accusation, but then remembered doing exactly that a few days before, at home during a neighborhood game. The principal responded that my best friend had reported the incident to his teacher, but had led her to believe that this incident had taken place on school grounds. I was immediately acquitted of all charges, and my best friend validated my story. The whole incident obviously had a serious impact on me. I remember my Mom saying "why would he do that to you", and I think I pondered that question for years. I couldn't name it at the time, but I clearly felt betrayed.

During my teen years I was really struggling with my sexuality. I was trying indeed to "pray the gay away" and that wasn't helping. A girl who lived in my neighborhood was and still is a good friend of mine used to tell me about a wonderful priest-counselor that she was meeting with weekly ( partly to deal with our semi-romantic relationship at the time)

  she offered to arrange for me to meet with him, and after dealing with a whole lot of anxiety I agreed. I liked him right away, felt very safe, and for the first time in my life, I spoke about my fears that I might be gay. He was very gentle, and very understanding, and non-judgmental, but said he felt that I should see a priest at Duquesne University who would be better equipped to help and guide me. I did see the man at Duquesne, and he did indeed help me accept myself, and all the various what he called "dimensions" of myself. He became my mentor, and a friend.

The girl who had suggested that I meet with her counselor went on to marry and have kids and grandkids, and though we stay in touch, it's mostly cards, and a rare meeting at a funeral home or a wedding. Last year we made plans to meet for lunch. At one point, I remarked that we'd never actually had the BIG conversation about my being gay. I asked her when she figured it out, and she said " Oh, Father____ told me you were gay when we were about sixteen...right after he met with you...told me I shouldn't waste my time". Even typing those words I feel my stomach lurch. She went on to say that she still has him for dinner now and then, and maybe I'd like to see him again sometime. My more militant side (once again) thought (thinks) that maybe I would...to tell him how he betrayed my trust. If I had known back then, I seriously wonder how I could have handled it. That scares me, because I was far from "militant" back then. I was a deeply troubled young man. That priest is an old man now, and I don't have it in me to do anything.

Lastly, my first year in High School, right around the same time, I was still struggling with girlfriends (and boyfriends), and since that first counselor had been helpful, I decided to talk to our guidance counselor...a kindly older Christian Brother who once again was encouraging and kind, and made me feel better...until a few days later when the creepy vice principal who would lurk around the boys locker room called me into his office...put his arms around me and said " I don't want you to think that Brother___ betrayed your confidence, but he told me you're having some difficulties". There I stood, with his hands where they shouldn't have been, feeling the awful and terrifying shame of betrayal.

As a teacher for many years and as a therapist as well, I take the responsibility of confidentiality and trust as Sacred. I read about Jerry Sandusky, and the pedophile priests, and it makes me sick. It also reminds me of the terror and pain and confusion that results from betrayal. My mother always liked and continues to like virtually all of my friends....except for the kid who got me in trouble in the fourth grade.

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