Are you always waiting for the other shoe to drop?
I am. Actually, I'm always waiting for the first shoe to drop and then the other, which invariably follows. And when that second shoe hits the ground, with a thud heard three floors down, I can say, "See, I told you so."
I have a trust issue. It's better than it used to be; I no longer start my relationships with, "Hi, I'm Jan, and, oh, by the way, I don't trust you." But the struggle continues. And why?
Because I don't trust myself.
If, like me, you grew up with domestic violence or another family dysfunction, you learned denial. What you see isn’t real, what you hear isn’t real, and what you think, well, save the thinking for the people in charge who know how to think. That is when they're not in the middle of a knock-down, drag-out or shooting verbal bullets at each other in a crowded restaurant or drinking every last drop in that bottle of I Feel Nothing. You, my child, are mistaken.
And there goes your self-trust, right out the window.
So what happens when you exit childhood and enter grown-up life?
You wind up "trusting" (or so you say) a string of what you refer to as colorful characters who never fail to disappoint; they prove their untrustworthiness right out of the gate. And you get to prove you're right. See, I told you so, becomes your mantra of choice. You lament daily: "But, boo hoo, I trusted them!"
Ahem ... sure you did.
And after years of self-deception, you enter the Confessional of The Trusting and bare your soul, admitting to God and anyone who will listen, that You. Trust. No. One. Never did. Never will again.
And then you ask yourself, "What did I miss"?
The red flags. They were smack dab in front of you. You saw them, you heard them, and you thought about them. But you were taught to ignore them, just as you were taught to ignore yourself.
But what do you do if the flags are missing?
You had no warnings. Maybe there were a couple of questions you should've or could've asked, but didn't, because everything seemed pretty good overall. There was no reason to distrust, no reason to lump this seemingly decent human being in with Devious Tom, Disingenuous Dick, and Double-dealing Harry. No reason to think sweet Betty Lou is a fake like the one who broke your heart. You can't compare apples and oranges.
But you try, oh how you try. Because now it looks like you've been abandoned, kid. Your friend is MIA. All communication has stopped, and you're left wondering what happened and what you did wrong.
Nothing. You did nothing wrong. But without eyes to see and ears to hear, self-doubt is gnawing at your brain. You don't know what to believe. How can you trust someone who does this to you?
So you sit and obsess about the past and the number of times you've been burned–like that really helps (it doesn't).
But that was then, and this is now. Now, what you really want is to believe the best about humanity. You're pinning your hopes on this mere mortal, a good but flawed human who appears to have let you down.
But have they?
To trust, or not to trust is not your only question. Is there something happening behind the scenes that you’re not privy to? Is there an illness or tragedy in their life? Did they lose their job or their home? Has an old flame or lost family member resurfaced and thrown their world into chaos?
Or are they just now showing you their true colors? Is it the same old, tired, worn-out story? Did they play you, manipulate you, and lie to you just like the last seventeen other friends, associates, or lovers did? Maybe you need to shield up.
But consider this: Your friend was nothing but kind to you. Maybe that's all you need to know, maybe that's enough–for now, anyway. Maybe, just maybe, they mean you no harm. Wouldn’t that be refreshing? (Can I get an Amen?)
Unfortunately, you’re in the dark. A crystal ball would come in handy right about now, wouldn’t it? But it looks like you have to trust yourself on this one. Yep, trust what you know and what you feel. What does your gut tell you? What does your heart say? Maybe this person will prove you wrong, and see, I told you so will take on a whole new meaning. It will become your go-to response to all the doubters, all the skeptics who were quick to judge, including the biggest skeptic of them all–you.
Maybe it'll be different this time.
Maybe.