I see you, crushed by broken trust, and my heart goes out to you.
I have been there.
We have all been there.
Trust is a fragile thing, so easily shattered, and we humans—we are stampeding bulls in a china shop.
Some of us offer trust too freely. Others resist it, kicking and screaming. Whatever the case, once trust has been offered, we are vulnerable. And once it has been broken, we are devastated.
I know. I see you. I feel your pain.
What can I offer?
The words of Louise Hay, paraphrased from her books and talks, are a refrain that has echoed in my thoughts in recent years:
We are all doing the best we can, where we are, with what we have right now.
I believe this.
I know it is true of me. I believe it is true of you. And here is the difficult part that follows: it must be true also of the person who broke your trust.
Is this an excuse for bad behavior? Certainly not.
But even the most calculating among us originated from the same source, and if you feel in your soul as I do that that source is pure love, you know on some level that those who willfully hurt us are, themselves, hurting.
Even more often, I believe, the hurt is unintentional.
Ego sees everything from a selfish perspective alone. It stealthily jockeys for position, believing power lies solely in being “right.” And who among us has not felt the horror of being overtaken by ego? It is a brutal autopilot, a thing hell-bent on plowing through all in its path.
I see you there, crushed, and I know you understand.
It is too much sometimes, this human condition.
You will never trust again! You will stand alone! You will build a wall and anticipate the next attack!
My dear friend, breathe.
Feel my love when I tell you, you were not wrong to trust. You will not be wrong to trust again.
The best of life comes at a price too dear to measure. It comes from being vulnerable. From opening ourselves to see and appreciate the divinity in others. From daring to love, and understanding that trust—paper-thin and irreparable once damaged—is a necessary component.
Gather the information. Learn the lesson. Clean up your side of the street. Say a prayer for the bull who came careening through your china shop, and send him on his way. Play your cards a bit closer to your vest the next time vulnerability comes calling.
But please, never believe that it was wrong to trust.
You are crushed right now, but you have risen before. You will rise again. This human condition is not simply awfulness; it is resilience, too.
Dear friend, believe me—you’ve got this.
Author: K.C. Wilder
Editor: Nicole Cameron
Copy Editor: Travis May
Social Editor: Yoli Ramazzina