If you’re reading this, you probably know me. Or at least, you know the Tina who used to believe that if you’re nice to people, the universe will treat you like a protagonist in a Hallmark movie.

I’m writing this because I recently went through a little something called Betrayal™. And let me tell you, it hits different when your heart is still in its “pure” phase. You know that phase? Where you think “red flags” are just colorful decorations and you give everyone the benefit of the doubt until your bank account—or your sanity—is overdrawn.

Buckle up, because we’re diving into the archives of my life under the heading: I’ll Never Forget That Sh*t.

To understand why this hurt so bad, you have to understand the state of my soul at the time. I was in my peak “pure heart” era. I was the person who would help you move your entire apartment in exchange for a slice of lukewarm pizza and a “thanks, girl.”

I genuinely believed that everyone had the same internal compass as me. I thought, “I would never intentionally hurt someone, so surely, this person I’m letting into my inner circle wouldn’t either.” Spoiler alert: The compass was broken. Actually, there was no compass. There was just a map leading straight to my downfall.

I won’t name names (mostly because I don’t want to give them the SEO real estate), but let’s just say I trusted someone with the “keys to the kingdom.” I’m talking emotional secrets, financial trust, and the kind of vulnerability you usually reserve for your therapist or your dog.

I thought we were building something. A friendship? A partnership? A future? Whatever it was, I was all in. I was playing Chess with my heart, but I didn’t realize the other person was playing Grand Theft Auto.

Then, the floor dropped.

I found out that while I was out here being a supportive, “pure-hearted” legend, they were busy:

1. Using my kindness as a footstool.

2. Talking about me like I was a character in a reality show they hated.

3. Actively working against the very things I was trying to build for us.

The moment of realization wasn’t a dramatic movie scene with rain. It was a quiet, cold realization in the middle of a Tuesday. It was that “stomach-dropping-into-your-shoes” feeling. I remember sitting there thinking, “Wait… people actually do this? For real?”

The hardest part isn’t even the thing they did. It’s the loss of the version of yourself that existed before it happened.

When you get betrayed while your heart is still pure, it feels like someone took a permanent marker to a white silk dress. You can try to scrub it out, but you’ll always know the stain is there. I’ll never forget that sh*t because it was the end of my “innocence.”

I had to learn—the hard way—that:

• Boundaries aren’t “mean”: They are survival gear.

• Trust is earned, not a default setting: You don’t just hand out “Platinum Level Access” to your life to anyone with a nice smile.

• Forgiveness is for me, but the memory is for protection: I can forgive you and still never want to see your face within a 50-mile radius of my life.

Looking back, I have to laugh at how naive I was. I was out here being a literal angel while they were basically a villain in a Disney movie. I’d be like, “Oh, they didn’t mean to lie to me, they’re just stressed!” and my friends would be in the back like, “Tina, they literally stole your identity and your favorite sweater, stand up!”

I’ve traded my “pure heart” for a “wise heart.” It’s still a good heart—it’s just got a security system now. High-grade encryption. A moat with a few metaphorical crocodiles.

If you’ve been betrayed, I know it feels like you’ll never trust again. I know you’re replaying the tapes, wondering how you missed the signs.

Don’t blame your purity. The fact that you were betrayed says everything about their character and nothing about your worth. It just means you were brave enough to be a good person in a world that sometimes rewards the opposite.

I’ll never forget that sh*t. Not because I’m bitter (okay, maybe a tiny bit), but because it was the catalyst for me becoming the woman I am today. A woman who is still kind, but who also knows exactly where the exit door is.

Stay sweet, but stay smart.