Sometimes I can be so over trusting. In so many ways. Over trusting of myself, over trusting of my abilities to handle alcohol, over trusting in friendships, and over trusting in the common population.
I don’t know how to maintain a healthy trusting relationship because it’s almost like you’re burned if you do, you’re burned if you don’t.
By not trusting in other people you rob them the chance to prove to you that they’re actually okay. You make assumptions and accusations, before even having all the facts.
But trusting too much can lead to so much pain and heartbreak.
Apparently we began trusting as early as infantry, where they theorize we develop trust vs. mistrust.
I think I was the trusting. Thanks parents, right? But idk, maybe it’s not such a great thing.
Cause here I am, 24 years old and I feel like I’m constantly relearning the same lesson.
The same lesson, just played out differently; don’t trust so easily.
So what lead me to write about this? I went out to a concert the other night. A country concert. I paid a high price, and drove several miles to go out and have a fun night with a friend. Something I had been looking quite forward to, since I barely see her in the summer and I hadn’t gotten out much lately. It was a chance to dress up, drink a little, dance and sing our hearts out.
Until that is, I woke up to a throbbing ankle at 5 am and a painful memory of a women twice my size lunging me across the floor.
All I could think was ‘how could this have happened and no one did anything to help me?’
There were hundreds of people around. And while I’m sure so many eyes were planted on the man of the hour; Luke Bryan…there had to of been some eyes watching me.
But no one did anything. And maybe it was because I tried so hard to play it off like nothing. The alcohol helped, I didn’t even feel the landing that clearly lead to my sprain that I now have in a splint, elevated on a pillow.
This women, I can hardly remember her face. But she hurt me. She hurt my pride, and most of all-she robbed me of my feeling of safety.
I’m a small petite woman. It doesn’t take much to lift me, and apparently as I now know-toss me.
The pain isn’t in my ankle. The pain is in my heart, and the cruelty in this world.