Do you have any practical (or spiritual) suggestions for rebuilding trust after it has been violated, while also granting space for privacy and autonomy? Life feels much too fragile to spend it suspicious of someone you love.
—Wary but Willing
Dear Wary but Willing,
I’m so sorry you’re in this position. Violations of trust can leave scar tissue on our hearts that can affect all relationships, not just the one you have with the person who hurt you. It’s wildly brave of you to face this issue head on, and I commend you for taking that risk.
Of course, running with this assumption that you are the one whose trust was broken, one key question you have to ask yourself as you undertake this process is: Is the person who caused this rift also going to great lengths to heal it? Knowing their intentions can help you make your choice.
All trust is a risk. And all trust is a choice. Wary, the answer to your question is both much easier and much harder than what your phrasing implies. That’s because there is no magic formula for building or rebuilding trust. It’s a leap that you have to decide to take.
The biggest catch-22 — and the reason I say that it’s easier than it seems — is that autonomy and privacy are inherent in the definition of trust. They’re not something you need to make space for; if they aren’t in place, then you’re not rebuilding trust — you’re just hedging your bets on whether or not you’ll be hurt again.
Trust is not transactional. It’s not like credit, something that can be built up over time based on specific metrics. It can’t be forced or proven. And it is never, ever owed. It can only be willingly given. Someone can do everything right, not make even the slightest relevant mistake, and if the other party isn’t willing to give their trust, then that’s that.
So if trust can’t be earned, only given, what then? Trust is a choice, a risk, a leap, yes — but this isn’t a Nike ad. When it comes to reactivating your capacity for trust after it’s been damaged, “just do it” isn’t sufficient, even though it’s fundamentally true.
The best thing you can do, Wary, is spend some time with yourself. Doesn’t matter if you call that meditation, prayer or a self-care day: just dedicate an uninterrupted span to checking in. Realize that you’re hurt, but you’re here. If you’re able to write in to an advice column, then this violation of trust has not destroyed you. Whatever the consequences were to you in this case, they have proven survivable.
The reason to withhold trust, after all, is fear of consequences. Fear of exposure. Fear of vulnerability. If you are withholding your trust as a punishment, then chances are what you’re ultimately after isn’t trust, but control.
All that said, Wary, it’s crucial to remember that the flip side of trust doesn’t have to be suspicion. In fact, the true opposite of trust is proof. If you can determine, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that a person will never cause you harm, then you no longer need to trust them. It becomes fact, not belief. That may be safer, but it’s far less valuable and intimate.
Being actively suspicious of the people closest to you is exhausting and bad for your mental health. Every situation is different, but suspicion implies negative intentions, whereas lack of trust can be due to a character trait or even just bad habits or laziness. Not everyone who harms us goes out of their way to do so. Sometimes their actions are not even about us.
Lack of trust, on its own, without cause for suspicion, is not antithetical to love. The best way to love someone is to know them, truly and fully and honestly—and choose not to put them in a position where they’re likely to fall short of expectations. If a friend consistently exhibits time blindness, don’t ask them to drive you to the airport and complain that they can’t be trusted to get you there on time. If a loved one is bad with money, then don’t loan them money you can’t afford to lose. These choices don’t mean that you love them any less.
Yes, this can lead to some hard conversations. If a partner sleeps around and you are only content with reciprocal monogamy, then the nature of your relationship with that partner may have to fundamentally change. If a roommate repeatedly acts counter to agreed-on household rules, it may be that you’re not suited to share space together. Those kind of things can be difficult to accept, on both sides — but it doesn’t mean there isn’t love there.
Sure, people can change. But change has to come from somewhere deep within, and it usually takes a very long time. Expecting situational change, demanding arbitrary evidence of change as a prerequisite for trust, is a losing gamble. Love people for who they are, not for who you want them to be. And base your decisions about who and how to trust on that love and understanding.
xoxo, Kiki
Submit questions anonymously at littlevillagemag.com/dearkiki or non-anonymously to dearkiki@littlevillagemag.com. Questions may be edited for clarity and length, and may appear either in print or online.
