Trust is a really hard thing. Lots of people have a difficult time doing it completely. I don't. If anything, I trust too easily and too much. And this trait has continued to bite me in the ass for most of my life.
It's not that I trust others without question. I can easily be suspicious of someone else's motives. It's trusting myself that's the problem. I know I give people the benefit of the doubt too often when I shouldn't. I am well aware that I choose to see the good in people and situations when my instinct tells me otherwise. Yet, I continue to do it, over and over. Until recently, of course. I finally started listening to my head instead of my heart and now a whole new world has opened up for me.
I knew early on in my marriage that my husband kept his true feelings and thoughts to himself, telling me what I wanted to hear instead of the truth. I discovered that he liked to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Because the decisions and issues we faced when we were young and in the first flush of love weren't all that vital, I overlooked how serious this flaw was. I ignored my instincts. Oh, how I wish I could go back in time and deal with this. The entire course of the last fifteen years could have been so different. But then I think about how different it might be. My son might not exist and that's not a change I'm willing to make.
I will no longer ignore my gut when it tells me something is wrong or I see a character flaw that might negatively affect me. I can't override that instinct because I want the truth to be something different than it is. I will still continue to trust people, but only until they don't give me a reason to. No more sweeping things under the rug. No more telling myself that it's not important when my inner voice is screaming at the top of its lungs.
I'm smart and strong and kind and good. Trust me, me. I know what I'm talking about.
April 24, 2017
April 24, 2017