In 2007, my now husband (then fiancé) and I celebrated our first Valentine’s Day. I wrote (probably) my worst song ever. It was called This Year. The gist of This Year was that, in all other years, this annual event sucked. The bridge was very dramatic:
"…year after year, I used to DREAD this Hallmark holiday, but this year, I’ve got you.” (Sigh.)
Decades later, we still laugh at that song.
I’d include a recording if it weren’t so cringey. I can’t do it 😎 It’s in the appropriate ¾, waltz time. Insert your own dramatic, minor melody, with a special emphasis on HALLMARK!
Before that year (06-07), Valentine’s Day was an annual reminder that childhood fairy tales had set me up. I devoured candy hearts with "Will you be mine" printed across them and clung to feel-good romance movies. I believed! He was out there, somewhere.
In reality, love-bombing, gaslighting, parasitic grifters recognized a convenient target. My open heart, trusting nature, and belief in human kindness made me a narc magnet. Beyond unprepared, I extended the benefit of the doubt to untrustworthy cosplayers—while doubting myself. Brokenhearted, I wracked my brain and busted my ass to understand, fix, and help, until I had to admit that I’d—again—trusted another deceiver.
This pattern didn’t stop until after my culty misadventure.
Betrayal trauma is real: when someone you love and rely on betrays your trust, they leave behind shrapnel. Mine rolled out in two stages:
What’s wrong with me? Why didn’t I see it coming? Why do I attract these people?
A colder, harder, and uncharacteristically cynical version of me.
Oddly, my cult tenure, which started in 2006, coincided with the beginning of my first authentically loving relationship. I had given up. Loneliness was preferable to another dalliance that left me feeling defective. I had morphed from idealistic romantic to cynical pessimist—I never knew I could be so cynical.
So when a caring man suddenly entered my life, I gave school (the cult) credit for this magical change. Of course, eventually, “school” f-ked with our relationship. All cults f-k with marriages.
This is a Gentle Soul’s dilemma: when I faced the reality that “school” was just another grift—that cons, narcissists, and sociopaths exist (oh my!)—I lost some essential idealism. My belief that human goodness, decency, and love will prevail over evil took a big hit.
It’s painful to see that a certain percentage of humanity is callous, selfish, and cruel.
But I could never toss hope altogether.
Always wondering "what is this person trying to extort from me?" is a miserable existence. And I’m not sure it’s possible for Gentle Souls to maintain, because we’re wired to extend the benefit of the doubt first.
That said, becoming self-protective is critical to your well-being. Most Gentle Souls hold trust in humanity as a core value—an essential aspect of identity. This faith in goodness is a gift. People who prove untrustworthy, who barrel over you, don’t deserve you. Stop sacrificing your well-being to appease the unappeasable. You will burn yourself out. That’s not good for anyone.
We need real hope, instead of the fictionalized Hallmark version.
In Chris, I found a quiet, mature, solid, loving, and truthful partner for the first time. The giddy, intoxicating stuff of romance novels dried up when I met the man who had my back and would never f-k with my heart.
Then, in May 2009, my dad died. He had been sick but determined to make it to our wedding, scheduled for October. By spring, he was in hospice in Cleveland, my family at his side. Chris flew from Boston so we could perform our vows privately for him. We had written songs—and they were not of the embarrassing HALLMARK variety.
When I stumbled out of school in 2011, it was because Chris had asked me:
"Are you sure that you’re not being manipulated?"
The only thing I knew was that I didn’t know my ass from my elbow.
If someone asks you, "Are you being manipulated?" and your answer is, "I don’t know", the odds are high that someone is manipulating you.
Sometimes I ask Chris, Why didn’t you run away screaming?
Usually, he responds, "I have no idea."
As the smoke cleared and the mirrors shattered, one thought emerged:
"If I don’t protect myself, no one else will."
Chris was a steady hand, a loving heart, and a soft place to land. I was lucky to have someone who loved me enough to stay by my side and endure my cult-induced insanity. Even through my cult coma, when leaders started maligning him, I knew my days in school were numbered. I wasn’t willing to lose my marriage to the “cause.”
So, Gentle Souls, my big takeaway from “school” is this:
What’s good for you is good for the people in your life.
May you:
❤️ Love yourself as fiercely as you love your people.
❤️ Offer yourself the same grace and compassion that you give to others.
❤️ Recognize grifters and build protective boundaries, sooner rather than later.
❤️ Implement a self-protective Less is More campaign—give yourself time and space to truly know people.
❤️ Say no to emotional parasites and yes to genuinely caring, warm, and loving people.
❤️ Recognize, value, protect, and honor your innate gifts as you would protect rubies or diamonds.
Your energy, focus, kindness, and empathy are gifts. When you know that, you don’t have to give up on goodness.
You’ll grow adept at trusting yourself and weeding out parasitic people.
THIS YEAR, make this Hallmark holiday a reminder to value and protect yourself, to continue claiming your life.
Inhale, exhale. One foot and then the next.
You’ve got this.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
~Esther
Esther Friedman
Author of The Gentle Souls Revolution
Website: gentlesoulsrevolution.com
Buy the book: https://a.co/d/4fLuoa0
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