Trust

I’ve been feel­ing a dis­tinct lack of trust in my life late­ly. Usually I’m fine in my in­de­pen­dence, but some­times I need some­one I feel com­fort­able talk­ing to. It is a weird sort of lone­li­ness, as if every­one who knows me is con­tent with their own per­cep­tions of who I am, un­in­ter­est­ed in any­thing oth­er than ca­su­al un­der­stand­ing. I feel like I’m on no one’s pri­or­i­ty list. I wish I felt com­fort­able talk­ing to some­one, but even when I talk to my mom I feel like she has no con­fi­dence in my abil­i­ties and no de­sire to ac­cept that I’m not the per­son she has al­ways want­ed me to be. She will read this and, as usu­al, think that I’m paint­ing her in bad light in­stead of re­al­iz­ing that I feel this way be­cause, though I love her, talk­ing to her caus­es me stress and that I haven’t felt com­fort­able telling her what is close to my heart since ju­nior high. She will feel at­tacked in­stead of won­der­ing why, when­ev­er I talk to her, the on­ly thing I hear is dis­ap­proval. My un­cle Collier gave me some frank and ex­cel­lent ad­vice about this while fish­ing in Canada one year, which is one rea­son why those trips are so spe­cial to me.

I’ve been try­ing to help peo­ple out with their prob­lems, small and large, quite a bit late­ly. I get the idea that oth­er peo­ple need my help more than I need theirs. So on the rare oc­ca­sions when peo­ple ask me if I need any­thing, I feel ob­lig­at­ed to say no. I don’t want to both­er them with my un­cer­tain­ties and fears. This is a prob­lem I’ve al­ways had. I don’t like ap­pear­ing weak or vul­ner­a­ble. This comes across as aloof­ness or ar­ro­gance to many peo­ple and pre­vents me from be­com­ing close enough to tell and trust some­one with the things I need help with.

I think my fear of trust­ing was born from three dif­fer­ent sources.

  1. My fa­ther: find­ing out that he cheat­ed on my moth­er, see­ing his vi­o­lent, hate-filled and hurt side to the point where jump­ing out of a car was a vi­able and best so­lu­tion. That was much worse than his nor­mal ca­su­al in­dif­fer­ence and ma­nip­u­la­tive dis­ap­proval.
  2. My moth­er: In ju­nior high, shar­ing with her the ini­tials of a girl I had a crush on, and her ask­ing around and find­ing out who it was. I was mor­ti­fied that oth­er peo­ple, strangers, knew who I had a crush on. Also, when she put my dog Rosie to sleep with­out telling me. Coupled with her dis­ap­proval, I’ve not felt se­cure talk­ing to her about any­thing re­mote­ly per­son­al since then.
  3. My room­mate: Pretty much the on­ly friend I had in the class of 2003, he hooked up with a team­mate he knew I had a crush on when I went home for my mother’s 50th birth­day and pro­ceed­ed to bla­tant­ly fool around with her in our room for the rest of the school year.

Writing that last part made me re­al­ize that the whole rea­son I start­ed this weblog was to place my trust is­sues in a place ex­ter­nal to me where they can be ex­am­ined and [most like­ly] for­got­ten about for a time. I might be cre­at­ing my own in­ter­nal in­for­ma­tion­al cas­cade. Lately I’ve been do­ing my best at be­ing com­plete­ly open and hon­est about my in­se­cu­ri­ties with one per­son, but it is very scary be­cause, even though I’ve been do­ing so, I still don’t know if I can trust them.

I ex­pect that I’ll get a few com­ments say­ing “You can talk to me, man.” but that will be the same mech­a­nism as when some­one talks about how they need a hug and some­one im­me­di­ate­ly of­fers one. Some of the au­then­tic­i­ty of the of­fer is lost. Of course, the pre­vi­ous is al­so just me pre­emp­tive­ly say­ing that I don’t need any help. A cleft stick of my own de­vis­ing, and the on­ly way out is to just go ahead and trust.

3 thoughts on “Trust

  1. i’ve read this five times and cry ( or at least get a lump in my throat) each time.
    1. it hurts me to hear that you feel this way
    2. i to­tal­ly get it and feel the same.

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