I Chose to Live Alone After Past Betrayals Until the Trashman Knocked on My Door on Christmas Eve — My Story

At 68, I chose to live alone because too many people, including my kids, had betrayed me in the past. However, a garbage man showed up at my door on Christmas Eve, and I was left with a big dilemma.

I’m Henrietta, and I was a hopeless romantic and fiercely loyal friend in my youth. But once I got older and experienced the brutal side of life, I learned that I could only trust myself. I was alone in this world, and I had to face things on my own.

I married my ex-husband, Carl, in my 20s, and my two best friends, Laura and Helena, were both maids of honor because I couldn’t choose between them. It was a magical night, and I thought Carl was the love of my life.

Even though I married before my friends, I still made time for them. Carl and I were trying for a baby and were busy with our careers, so it wasn’t easy. But my friendships were just that important to me. I confided in them, mainly when it seemed like we had fertility troubles, and they did the same. If I couldn’t have children, at least I knew I had them. Right?

Wrong. One night, I got home from work and caught my husband with Helena in a compromising position. They scrambled to get dressed and apologized, but I didn’t want to hear it. I threw them out of my house immediately.

I later discovered that this affair had been going on for years, and Laura knew about it. So, I had been betrayed by the three people I loved most in the world. I was alone for the first time ever. My parents had my back, but my chosen family was not there anymore.

I discovered a few days later that I was pregnant – with my twins, Paul and Peter. So, I dedicated myself to having a healthy pregnancy while getting divorced. Helena and Laura tried to reconcile, but I shut them down. I didn’t need their fake friendship.

I had my boys and focused on them, only to discover that Helena also got pregnant. Carl married her, and Laura was their maid of honor. All the guests seemed to forget what they had done to me, and I saw the pictures where they had a marvelous time. Seeing their happiness every time I had to drive the boys to Carl was excruciating. Yes, we shared custody.

At least he was a good father. Perhaps. Over the years, I suspected he was poisoning the kids’ minds against me, but I never had any concrete proof. My boys loved being with their dad, and at 16, they moved in with him full-time, although it broke my heart.