Learning to trust people is hard, and trust is a fragile thing. I think I’ve always known that. I remember my mother saying it to me as a child, her disappointed words always carrying more weight than her anger. I don’t know if I can trust you. It echoed in my head. It made me feel as if some invisible door had closed off between us. And I wasn’t sure how to get it back open, to undo what I had done.
It feels the same way as an adult, but now the reverse.
Now I’m the one who’s asked to trust people, to put my faith in their goodness, to believe, without a doubt, that they won’t break me or let me down.
I’ve become like my mother, the one who has to determine how to love someone who has destroyed the very ground we’re both standing on.
Now I’m the one who has to trust people who don’t always do or say what they mean. And am I capable of giving them a chance—so many chances—like my mother gave me?
Featured Image Credit: Kinga Cichewicz
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