TRUST ME NOT

I was born demanding. Wanting food, wanting attention. Those desires are still with me. Instinctual, connected, and animal impulses. Almost uncontrollable.

I was born anxious. So bothered that I cried out into the darkness and light. You could say I was mistrusting.

As I experienced being provided with food and attention on a predictable basis, I calmed down. Came to take them for granted. I stopped being concerned.

As I developed, I didn’t even ask myself, ‘Can I rely on my parents providing food, and at least some people giving me attention?’

I came to believe I was living in a world where there were some things I could trust. Certain people were trustworthy.

It was a long time before I heard the word ‘trust’ and came to use it.

I had a home to live in. I was provided with clothes and shoes. I was even introduced to people outside the family. I learned to call some of them friends. Those who paid me no attention were passers-by. As my critical faculties developed, I experienced the distinction between friends, acquaintances, and people who ignored me.

Eventually I had a rude awakening. I realised there were people who didn’t love me — and people who didn’t like me — and people who were my enemies.

Sometimes I got it right. Other times I was shocked. There were people I felt and thought I knew were trustworthy. I experienced disappointment, surprise and shock. There were even some people who pretended to be friends. They undermined and hurt me, sometimes unconsciously and sometimes deliberately.

I couldn’t rely on myself being able to predict accurately what others were like, and how they would behave at different times and in different situations. They had their own way of living, their own character, values, desires, hopes and fears.

Who could I trust? For how long could I trust them? Under what pressures could I trust them? Who would stick by me through thick and thin?

I learned that everyone had their limits. I realised that I had my limits. Experienced that every human is an individual, and in particular circumstances is untrustworthy. Certainly I can’t trust anyone not to let me down.

Like the weather, every individual is ultimately unpredictable. I am almost entirely ignorant of their deepest desires and plans. I have come to withhold total trust from every individual, every power, leader, institution, political party, technology, and climate.

I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust my mental health (it has abandoned me many times). I don’t trust what I write. I’ve developed the habit of recognising what I write as no more than an approximation of what I mean.

I delete words, phrases and paragraphs more frequently than I delete people. I have dropped people out of my life deliberately. I imagine I’ll continue doing that until the end.

For me, trust is a five-letter word. It is handy as a conversation starter. Sometimes it’s a pleasant word around which to reflect.

So, am I a cynic, a sceptic or a realist?

I confess that I wouldn’t advise you to put all your trust in me. (Not sure Louis my dog trusts me. My cat Puma certainly doesn’t.) I am fallible. I don’t deserve your absolute trust. I’m not worth it.

In summary, I am an unbeliever, an ordinary human being.

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