Difficulty trusting
Wednesday, March 16, 2011 at 9:45PM 
The ultimate terror of mine is – to be controlled by someone else. I practice letting go, I practice accepting what people give to me, but there is always that reserve, deep within. I always have one foot on the shore, one finger holding on to the solid ground. Not fully trusting. Not allowing anyone in all the way. Having a corner of my own just so that I can squeeze inside, just in case. Filled with fear of being taken over completely, being helpless, letting someone control my emotions. And so I remain in charge.
People tell me things. Nice things. What do I do? I smile and nod. I breathe in and out and accept it and tell myself that I accept it. But then it creeps in. I try to prove the truth of what has been said – I logically take it apart and stitch it back together to see if it holds. People do nice things to me. What do I do? I allow them to do it, I accept it and enjoy it, but at some point the fear poisons my acceptance and I shrink, I shy away from their touch, from their love, and I start thinking things. I think I am not worth it, there must be a reason they are doing it, I start analyzing it to death, and it sucks out all enjoyment in the process. I don’t trust again. I find it hard to let go and simply accept. I battle with myself all over again, sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. But it’s still a struggle. People give me things, gifts. I have a hard time accepting them – it must have been just an afterthought, they didn’t really take the time to pick them out, they did shopping in a hurry, they really don’t care. I go deep into a monologue in my head, and the deeper I go, the darker it gets. I don’t trust, I don’t trust, I don’t trust.
Letting someone open the door for me? No way, I can do it myself. Letting someone cook for me? Ouch, I will feel uncomfortable and will start doing the dishes. Letting someone clean up for me while I sit on a sofa and do nothing? I will get red in my face from embarrassment – and will probably last 15 minutes at the most. Letting someone do my chores, make my bed, feed me, clothe me? Sounds scary as hell. Sounds disabled. Sounds like taking care of the baby – helpless, at the mercy of the caregiver. My body starts shaking at the thought of needing help. And yet I have to learn to trust – to allow people to love me fully, and to love them back. I have to break this patterns and allow it to be, to happen to me, to bathe in it like in warm water, the one that I don't feel - the one that is neither cold nor hot - the one that I barely feel because it's just the right temperature.
I stare at this water and wonder if I have the guts to jump in. Forget it. I can't. Well, maybe a little bit, maybe just to wet my toes. I stretch out my legs and I feel it - it feels like nothing and everything. I go a little deeper - and it envelops me. It's so comforting that it's scary. I think - it can't be, it just can't. No way. There is some hidden meaning in this, some tricky agenda that I can't see yet. It will grab me by the ankles and yank me under water, it will bite my limbs off and crunch my bones, it will spill blood and invite others to feast, it will push me into agony and let me die - on the spot. I stand still and tremble. Nothing happens. I make another step - going deeper. It feels like walking in luke warm milk - so pleasant that it can't be real. I want to stretch out my arms and push the liquid around. I want to dip my head and close my eyes. I want to trust that the next step will still have solid ground for my feet - under all this water. And when it won't - I won't suffocate - I will float. Love will carry me - if I let it. If I don't tighten my muscles into a ball at the last minute, if I don't jerk my legs away, if I don't gasp water instead of air and start panicking, splashing around. If I can only trust. If I can let myself feel - let it come in - and come out - be a neutral transmission point - understand that everything that comes - goes. Nothing stays. Everything ends. Then I can do it. I will try. I promise. I will stay there a little longer, long enough to see what happens - with full trust.
Photo by Nicki Varkevisser.
Reader Comments (2)
You sound just like me dear friend...
Don't we all? Seems to me like this is pretty universal...