trusting people

trust is one of those things we rarely notice until it's missing. it's invisible yet indispensable. people often speak of trust as something to be earned, but what they don't say is how fragile it is—how a single misstep, a forgotten word, or an unspoken truth can leave cracks in its foundation.

i've noticed something peculiar about trust: it's built on words but words alone aren't enough. people, even the ones closest to me, often say the right things. they promise support, offer affirmations, and pledge loyalty. but when those words don't align with actions - when the hand that promised to catch you isn't there when you fall - the words themselves start to feel hollow. it's not that i expect perfection. Life happens; people get caught up in their own storms. but the gap between saying and doing is a chasm where trust quietly erodes.

i've also noticed that trust is a two-way street. it's not just about trusting others but also about trusting ourselves. when we doubt our own worth, our own intuition, or our own voice, we open the door to mistrust. we second-guess our decisions, question our instincts, and silence our truths. and in doing so, we create a disconnect between who we are and who we present to the world.

and then there's the hiding. not all lies are malicious; some are omissions, half-truths, or things left unsaid. yet when the truth surfaces later, it doesn't feel benign. It feels like a stab in the back. the intent doesn't always matter; what matters is the aftermath. trust thrives on transparency, and when you learn someone has been holding something back, even innocently, the delicate dance of connection stumbles.

overthinking doesn't help. if anything, it's like magnifying the cracks in a window. you see them more clearly, obsess over their shapes, and imagine the whole thing shattering. but overthinking also has its uses; it prepares you for the worst. the problem is when the worst happens, and your intuition or paranoia proves correct. it's validating in the most disheartening way.

trust requires effort. it's built with one consistent action and honest conversation at a time, yet it can crumble with ease. missteps over time don't just create cracks; they weaken the foundation entirely. and while it's understandable to feel hurt or defensive, the blame game only widens those cracks, turning them into unbridgeable gaps. healing trust requires mutual effort - an understanding that neither side is perfect. not everyone can be mindful in the moment; emotions cloud judgment, mistakes are made. but when things go wrong, it's crucial to express genuine intention. a heartfelt acknowledgment of the hurt caused paired with a real desire to make things right can often mend what's broken.

i'm not entirely distrustful. there are people I trust deeply. but even that trust is layered with caution, shaped by insecurities and traumas that cling like shadows. once you've been burned, you pull your hand back, even from a gentle flame. and it's not always the fault of the other person. sometimes it's the baggage we carry, the scars that make us scared when there's no real danger.

but trust isn't just about me. it's also about the people around me, those who lose their integrity in moments of weakness, who don't listen when I need to be heard. it's easy to become reactive, to mirror their behavior, to change in ways I don't like. but that's a trap. when you let someone else's failures dictate your own behavior, you're handing them the power to shape you. and yet, even the most self-reliant among us need support. givers need givers. supporters need support. the myth of the lone wolf is just that. we're all human, and no one can carry the weight alone forever.

misinterpretations add another layer of complexity. people hear what they want to hear, not what you mean. and when they twist your words, accuse you of contradictions, or project their own fears onto you, it feels like a betrayal of your integrity. trust isn't just about believing in someone else; it's also about being seen and understood for who you are. when that's taken away, it cuts deep.

but trust is worth the risk. without it, relationships become transactional, and life feels lonelier. maybe that's the paradox of trust: it's fragile and easily broken, yet resilient enough to rebuild. it requires vulnerability, a willingness to let someone in despite knowing they might hurt you. and when it works, when trust is met with honesty, integrity, and care, it's one of the most profound experiences life has to offer.

trusting people - is hard. :)