trust
1. reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence. 2. confident expectation of something; hope. 3. confidence in the certainty of future payment for property or goods received; credit: to sell merchandise on trust. 4. a person on whom or thing on which one relies: God is my trust. 5. the condition of one to whom something has been entrusted. 6. the obligation or responsibility imposed on a person in whom confidence or authority is placed: a position of trust. 7. charge, custody, or care: to leave valuables in someone's trust. 8. something committed or entrusted to one's care for use or safekeeping, as an office, duty, or the like; responsibility; charge.
Sometimes when I question the way I feel about certain things, I find that the dictionary is a good place to start. It is like the way that I start looking at a scientific problem. I go back to the base, the smallest unit and try to comprehend. Get to the seed of the tree. The very processes that enable a microorganism to thrive.
There are no kind ofs about it. I have trust issues.
I have always considered myself to be a trusting person. This sounds so fragile to me, like a crystallized rose frozen by liquid nitrogen. This was a most impressive science demonstration. The thrusting of a fragrant image of beauty and romance thrust into a tub of liquid so cold it does not even wait before bursting into gas above the heads of waiting children. Then withdrawn, the stiff and blackened corpse of what was beauty.
tangents...
I always thought I was trusting, but what is trust. What does it mean? It seems to be like confidence, the spanish confiar is a fine verb. To have confidence in the fact that someone will do something. To be sure.
Take 1: high school, first boyfriend, B (I always called him something else, as did many others although I know it's not the name he prefers, here it will suffice as a code name of sorts). I remember thinking that he was so mysterious, and handsome. He was so tall and pale with these crazy piercing blue eyes that would just impale your brain if you looked up. We had great fun, long talks, epic fights, fun little parkings and then... he told me that one week after our first (and oh so precious) kiss that he had fooled around with a nasty nasty nasty girl. I forgave. I thought I was being oh so worldly. Just brush it off, it was nothing. I soldiered on. We continued. Then in the whirlwind of our adolescent leavings and breakings I was spending the night at a friends house and noticed his car parked across the street as I left hers in the morning. And just like that, a new chanced love sprung out of the destruction of our happiness and beauty. I think we were over before that but at the time, I am pretty sure I kind of thought we were together. Figuring out that he had been unfaithful, across the street, in a stupor, infuriated me. When three days later I found that he was dating this girl, I was even more angry/sad. They're married now. I am not sad or angry anymore, but that sort of stomach falling out feeling is still etched in my mind. It still happens, sometimes, when I see him on campus.
Take 2: the epic X. He toured with his band, and I thought he wouldn't cheat on me. I was sure of it. And he didn't. So he said. He was such a goddamn hottie (and he didn't really know it). But I had no reason not to trust him... or did I? He was constantly unfaithful verbally in front of me, running his words out and over the prodigious chests of random ladies. I was fine with it (no matter how much I use it as an example of what an a-hole he was). Seriously, I was glad we could deconstruct those feelings he had, instead of having to keep them bottled up inside. And the compliments he directed at me were enough to keep me from feeling bad about myself. But when he started dating lady X while we weren't together, it was the thought of intimacy, the thought of sharing an intimacy with another person that drove me to a place where I stopped eating and sleeping for anxiety's sake. It was that place from which I clambered onto the mountain of my solitude and looked down on him, disgusted. Yelled for days it felt like. The thought of someone else having what I had, those moments of forget the physical, the pillow talk, the giggles and the afterburn. That's what cut me to the heart. And knowing that he didn't have the power to stop. Knowing that all the words I could ever think of could not explain to him clearly enough. Knowing that our communication was never operating at 100% efficiency. It never bothered me when I found out he had fooled around with some other girl while we were apart. It was knowing that there was something aside from just touching hands going on.
so my isssue I think is not an insurmountable one. I might be looking around for telltale signs at all times, checking to see if cars are parked certain places, if certain messages have been left on certain cellular telephones (not my proudest moment, something I'll never do again), but I think in the end...
People have my trust. Until they lose it. That automatic trust is a little less strong now with the ways I've been burned. It still stings. Stings because to me, the basic message of cheating is "YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH" (no matter the explanations to the contrary) I GUARANTEE to you that this is what every cheated heart sobs out over a glass of wine.
It is not even feeling insufficient which is the worst. It is the deception. It is seeing the car parked where it shouldn't be. When you're 16. It is reading the texts that make your heart race so bad it's almost like it's time for you to jump off the diving board. When you're 22 and living without your dad for the first time but all you care about is the nighttime whisperings of a woman and a man. That fire in the pit of your stomach when you realize that something that you cared about is gone forever. The breath that won't come and the isolation you feel. The immediate severing of all emotional ties.
I told x so very long ago, that if he cheated on me I didn't want to know. This is still true. A one-offkiss, a careless caress, these things would not bother me. The simple company of one other person for one evening (something I feel like I would have got in trouble for before).
But a violation of intimacy is a whole other can of worms, sir.
And that's just about it.
[but let me just say here before I go that my body is not the boss of my, my brain is the boss of me, and before I have been able to overcome such things. talkingtalkingtalking all the time is the only way that i know how to process, to handle things, and i really do think that I have grown and have come to understand more of the male psyche than I ever ever did. this american life helped me. i want to not to go to istanbul. i want to become the most highly evolved person that i can be and oh so sleepy..can't write more... want to talk more...want to write more...]
Sometimes when I question the way I feel about certain things, I find that the dictionary is a good place to start. It is like the way that I start looking at a scientific problem. I go back to the base, the smallest unit and try to comprehend. Get to the seed of the tree. The very processes that enable a microorganism to thrive.
There are no kind ofs about it. I have trust issues.
I have always considered myself to be a trusting person. This sounds so fragile to me, like a crystallized rose frozen by liquid nitrogen. This was a most impressive science demonstration. The thrusting of a fragrant image of beauty and romance thrust into a tub of liquid so cold it does not even wait before bursting into gas above the heads of waiting children. Then withdrawn, the stiff and blackened corpse of what was beauty.
tangents...
I always thought I was trusting, but what is trust. What does it mean? It seems to be like confidence, the spanish confiar is a fine verb. To have confidence in the fact that someone will do something. To be sure.
Take 1: high school, first boyfriend, B (I always called him something else, as did many others although I know it's not the name he prefers, here it will suffice as a code name of sorts). I remember thinking that he was so mysterious, and handsome. He was so tall and pale with these crazy piercing blue eyes that would just impale your brain if you looked up. We had great fun, long talks, epic fights, fun little parkings and then... he told me that one week after our first (and oh so precious) kiss that he had fooled around with a nasty nasty nasty girl. I forgave. I thought I was being oh so worldly. Just brush it off, it was nothing. I soldiered on. We continued. Then in the whirlwind of our adolescent leavings and breakings I was spending the night at a friends house and noticed his car parked across the street as I left hers in the morning. And just like that, a new chanced love sprung out of the destruction of our happiness and beauty. I think we were over before that but at the time, I am pretty sure I kind of thought we were together. Figuring out that he had been unfaithful, across the street, in a stupor, infuriated me. When three days later I found that he was dating this girl, I was even more angry/sad. They're married now. I am not sad or angry anymore, but that sort of stomach falling out feeling is still etched in my mind. It still happens, sometimes, when I see him on campus.
Take 2: the epic X. He toured with his band, and I thought he wouldn't cheat on me. I was sure of it. And he didn't. So he said. He was such a goddamn hottie (and he didn't really know it). But I had no reason not to trust him... or did I? He was constantly unfaithful verbally in front of me, running his words out and over the prodigious chests of random ladies. I was fine with it (no matter how much I use it as an example of what an a-hole he was). Seriously, I was glad we could deconstruct those feelings he had, instead of having to keep them bottled up inside. And the compliments he directed at me were enough to keep me from feeling bad about myself. But when he started dating lady X while we weren't together, it was the thought of intimacy, the thought of sharing an intimacy with another person that drove me to a place where I stopped eating and sleeping for anxiety's sake. It was that place from which I clambered onto the mountain of my solitude and looked down on him, disgusted. Yelled for days it felt like. The thought of someone else having what I had, those moments of forget the physical, the pillow talk, the giggles and the afterburn. That's what cut me to the heart. And knowing that he didn't have the power to stop. Knowing that all the words I could ever think of could not explain to him clearly enough. Knowing that our communication was never operating at 100% efficiency. It never bothered me when I found out he had fooled around with some other girl while we were apart. It was knowing that there was something aside from just touching hands going on.
so my isssue I think is not an insurmountable one. I might be looking around for telltale signs at all times, checking to see if cars are parked certain places, if certain messages have been left on certain cellular telephones (not my proudest moment, something I'll never do again), but I think in the end...
People have my trust. Until they lose it. That automatic trust is a little less strong now with the ways I've been burned. It still stings. Stings because to me, the basic message of cheating is "YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH" (no matter the explanations to the contrary) I GUARANTEE to you that this is what every cheated heart sobs out over a glass of wine.
It is not even feeling insufficient which is the worst. It is the deception. It is seeing the car parked where it shouldn't be. When you're 16. It is reading the texts that make your heart race so bad it's almost like it's time for you to jump off the diving board. When you're 22 and living without your dad for the first time but all you care about is the nighttime whisperings of a woman and a man. That fire in the pit of your stomach when you realize that something that you cared about is gone forever. The breath that won't come and the isolation you feel. The immediate severing of all emotional ties.
I told x so very long ago, that if he cheated on me I didn't want to know. This is still true. A one-offkiss, a careless caress, these things would not bother me. The simple company of one other person for one evening (something I feel like I would have got in trouble for before).
But a violation of intimacy is a whole other can of worms, sir.
And that's just about it.
[but let me just say here before I go that my body is not the boss of my, my brain is the boss of me, and before I have been able to overcome such things. talkingtalkingtalking all the time is the only way that i know how to process, to handle things, and i really do think that I have grown and have come to understand more of the male psyche than I ever ever did. this american life helped me. i want to not to go to istanbul. i want to become the most highly evolved person that i can be and oh so sleepy..can't write more... want to talk more...want to write more...]