Trust...

We wouldn’t get very far in life without trust. All relationships are based on trust, trust that this person, whether it’s your mum, your lover, your friend, or the slightly questionable man in the kebab shop scratching his nuts then smelling his fingers (it’s the finger smelling that makes this situation all the more suspicious) before serving up your chips in pitta bread with salt and mayonnaise, will not hurt you, betray you, or add a little extra something (like Ecoli) to your food. Just think, if you trusted no one, you wouldn’t even be able to leave your house. You wouldn’t be able to trust that the mechanic made your car road worthy so you wouldn’t be able to drive; you wouldn’t be able to trust that some driver won’t mow you down in the street so you’re stuffed before you even walk out the door. But then you also wouldn’t be able to trust the builder who built your house, you could wake up (or not) in a pile of bricks at any given moment. Yep, I’d say trust (or maybe lack of paranoia) is pretty important in having a life worth living. Those people who say they trust no one have really not thought that statement through.

But, paranoia aside, at what point do we start to really trust people? Does it take years to nurture or should we trust until we have reason to think otherwise? And after the trust is gone, can we get it back?

I’m a fairly trusting person, so when I meet someone new, be it a friend, a date, whatever, my instinct is usually to trust first and question later. I always try to look for the positive side of someone until the opposite is glaring me in the face. It takes a lot for me to lose trust. But many people do things differently. They are suspicious of everyone, and wait for trust to be earned before they give it away. And I wonder if those people are any happier or safer than me as a result?

Life in itself is a gamble. And, as my trip down paranoia lane above proves, we also take a lot of things for granted. If we thought every single little thing through we’d all be pretty miserable and not a lot of fun to have around.

If you look hard enough you can always find reasons not to trust someone. If you let your mind stray just a little and question someone’s motives, you can turn the most innocent of things into a potentially massive betrayal. And if you don’t nip those thoughts in the bud, you can make not only your own life, but others too, a misery.

The funny thing is the least trusting people are often the ones who are not to be trusted themselves, in my experience anyway. I trust people, I suppose mainly because I know that I can be trusted. Those that don’t trust are often the ones who are shady by nature. If someone doesn’t trust me, my first response is to wonder whether I can really trust them.

Trust is often overlooked as the most precious thing, but it must be encouraged and nurtured. Many people say that trust is impossible to get back once it’s gone. But, like every emotion, whether or not to trust is ultimately a choice. I have been betrayed and trusted again a few times in my life. OK, maybe things are never the same but that is just the way life is. I’ve spent too long in my life worrying about things that didn’t happen (and some that did, but did worrying about them before they happened help me in the event? Er, no). And not trusting does not make life any nicer or easier, in fact it makes everything more difficult. So I will always choose, at least try to, trust. It’s not always easy, but that is my choice. And hey, life is never easy.

Was Shakespeare right when he said “love all, trust a few, do wrong to none”? Because, to me, love and trust go hand in hand. I couldn’t love someone I didn’t trust. But do I love all those that I trust? The kebab man? Hmmm, maybe I do at 2.17am on Sunday morning (come on admit it, we’ve all declared our love for the kebab man in a drunken stupor. Just me? Wow). But I do believe Shakespeare was right when he said love all. Although if he were alive today, I certainly would not expect to see him in line at my local kebab shop at 2.17am on a Sunday morning, I really don’t think he’d be able to get past the finger smelling. Few would, but chips is chips. Especially when you are very drunk indeed.

Disconnected

Note: Rusty Cogs

This is my first blog post in months. I wrote it last weekend but wasn’t brave enough to post it. I have had the most crippling writers block, probably down to a severe case of the “I’m crap”’s. So I’m rusty and it will take me a while to get the cogs moving again. A serious knock to the self confidence sent me into myself and had me questioning everything I ever believed about myself, not least whether or not I should be writing at all. But I’m back, and although rusty I will now be blogging regularly again. Because in the middle of the storm, for all the questioning and uncertainty, the one thing that never changed was how much I love this, I know it is where I’m meant to be. As my fingers touch the keys bits of dust and remnants of my past are flying from my knuckles and mind, revealing a new and shiny me beneath. It will take time to build my confidence again, and the new and shiny me, like new skin, is very raw and fragile, but I’ll soon toughen up again. The first few steps are wobbly, and fearful, but Paulo Coelho said “If you only walk on sunny days, you will never reach your destination.” And I have places to be.

Now on with the blog post, it’s called “Disconnected”…

A note to the wise, if things are bad, never, ever say “it can’t get any worse” because it always can. 2012 seems to just keep kicking my ass, so from now on I have given those around me permission to punch me in the head if I ever say it can never get any worse again. So as a result of the repeated ass kicking (and in preparation for the head punching), I just needed to get away. Get away from everything and everyone and have no reminders of anything around me. Completely disconnect from the world and let my mind begin to heal.

So I blew a small fortune on a room at 4* Norton Park Hotel. It’s only fifteen mintues from my house, so no wasting any of my precious one and a half child free days travelling. And when I discovered that my one suitcase, handbag and laptop bag wasn’t quite enough luggage for 22 hours away from home, I could pop home for that Tesco bag of last minute essentials (magazines and gym gear, so I could make use of the gym facilities – got to get your moneys worth).

Anyway, I feel safe, yet alone and that is what I need right now. I need to spoil myself and feel decadent just for a night. Apart from staying with friends and family I have not been away for five years, not even for a single night. So it’s not so much a mini break, more a break down avoider. I can’t afford treats like this, but we can live on baked beans on toast for the rest of the month (did you know that baked beans on toast is the most nutritionally complete meal you can get? So we can now happily and without guilt dish out beans on toast knowing that we are probably giving them a more balanced meal than the organic pumpkin risotto with free range bacon and a medley of seasonal fresh vegetables that took us three hours to make and another three to get them to eat). And eating baked beans on toast for a couple of weeks is preferable for all of us than me having a nervous breakdown.

All I want is some time to myself, just think about me. Relax and unwind and not be bothered by the outside world. Turn my phone off then not turn it on again until I leave tomorrow, after check out and a day spent abusing the spa facilities.

So of course the first thing I did when I arrived in my room (after doing a victory lap, then jumping on the bed and squealing with excitement) was connect my phone to the hotels wi-fi, check in on Facebook (I am currently taking every opportunity to check in whenever I go anywhere remotely exciting, because it’s a rare treat to do so) and text a photo of my hotel room to Mr K (nice big hint of the quality of romantic mini breaks I expect to be taken on). Hardly disconnected. So I then turned my phone off. Went to the spa and did some swimming, steam room, swimming again, steam room again. Heaven.

But while sitting in the steam room, allowing my mind to wander and my muscles to unfurl, I had a sudden panic, what if there was an emergency with the kids? So I turned my phone on and texted their dad with the hotel phone number and my room number. Ooh and while I’m at it I’ll just check the Facebook for comments, and reply to these few texts I have just received. And turn phone off again.

From the moment I arrived until midnight, I turned my phone off for an hour then back on to check messages and Facebook and then off again. It’s kind of defeating the purpose of turning it off all together. But I need my phone. I need my apps. I need my note taking app (in case by some miracle this crippling writers block clears), I need it for the time (I never wear a watch) and I need it to know that I always have access to Mr Christian Grey (who lives in my Kindle App) when I need him.

My mum said that in her day life was so much easier. You didn’t have Facebook, text messages and emails detailing everyone’s feelings. “In fact,” she said “we didn’t really have feelings, we just got on with it.” I have been imagining a life without Facebook (and feelings) a lot lately, believe me, and I think it would be sheer bliss, life must have been so much simpler. But, like my mum said, we can’t really live without these thing; mobile phones, Facebook, the internet, they are available so we have to use them, to not use them is to miss out. Yes, we can all snottily say that we could happily live without it, and we have all experienced the dark side of Facebook, but it’s such a great way of staying in touch, and getting support when you’re having a bad day, and finding a silly pointless picture that makes you smile through your tears. And how about promoting your business/blog/book for free? We need to accept that these days, we can’t live without it.

But after a night in my hotel room, I woke up at 5am, and then gave up on any more sleep at 650am (it’s not the kids that need sleep training it’s me) and decided to make use of the “executive desk” feature of my hotel room and start this blog post. And I have now decided that is it. No phone today. Everyone knows where I am and can reach me in an emergency. No one will worry because I haven’t replied to their text or updated my Facebook. I am going incommunicado. For eight hours. All very retro.