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When You Don’t Trust Anyone

Looking back at my life, I’ve noticed a common thread.

Before starting school, I was an active if introverted girl. More than anything, I loved spending hours in trees, tucked away among the highest branches. I would sit up there, lulled by the gentle sway, and think about the fact that we are all connected.

Six-year-old me could feel those interwoven strands, to the point that I didn’t understand why we were unable to hear each other’s thoughts. I spent more than one day trying to break through that barrier. Did I mention that I am an only child?

Then I entered elementary school and discovered, much to my confusion, that no one else seemed to understand these invisible ties. I experienced firsthand the pack mentality of children and the cruelty that they reserve for anyone who falls outside the group.

As early as first grade, I began to withdraw inside of myself. I didn’t make it out again until my mid-twenties.

Suspicion and Expectations

By middle school, I learned to expect betrayal. More than that, I had internalized all the stares, whispers, and jokes, becoming convinced that there was something wrong with me. I struggled in vain to become what I thought my classmates wanted to see, with little idea of how to be that kind of person.

At age 17, I started to date and the facade continued. I had no concept of who I was anymore and though I craved approval more than anything, I expected betrayal, especially from my partners.

As the years passed and I entered my twenties, I developed an unfortunate defense mechanism. After the honeymoon stage of a new relationship, I would get scared and start to look for flaws in my significant other. I zeroed in on anything that I could interpret as mistreatment or lack of affection, proof that they were using me. This led to arguments and breakups.

Even though I had minimal trouble getting dates at that point, I didn’t trust anyone who claimed to care for me. There was an angle, a lie, and I was going to find it. It couldn’t last and with that thought, I created a self-fulfilling prophesy of driving people away before they could leave me.

Fear and Uncertainty

As my baggage train filled up, I grew more uncertain. All I could see were the flaws of my exes, convincing myself that I was picking the wrong people. I would go from “being in love” to walking out the door, all within a few months. I couldn’t trust anyone, especially myself.

It’s taken me a long time to realize that, for the most part, the problem wasn’t the partners I was choosing. It was me.

The Way Out

Through reading, journaling, therapy, and medication, I am beginning to relearn trust. I know now that the deck was stacked against me, as I have been struggling with bipolar disorder since my pre-teens. Delusions and paranoia come with the territory.

Beyond that, I am acknowledging the part I played in all this. Discarding my identity, chasing the thinnest scraps of praise and affection, tying my sense of self-worth to the opinions of others. An unwinnable race.

I’ve ended relationships because I thought that my social group wouldn’t find them attractive or interesting enough and think less of me for it.

I’ve said goodbye to people I care about, all because I didn’t trust my feelings. The stronger they got, the more convinced I became that I was kidding myself or that it would turn out to be a sick joke.

Despite a history filled with broken connections and hearts, I am committed to learning from my mistakes and moving forward. I see the problem now. I’m untangling myself from the social web. I’m investing in myself.

I’m beginning to trust my feelings again, a precious gift after two decades of detachment and tears. I’m remembering the girl who used to sit for hours in trees, thinking about the purpose of life. That knew, beyond a doubt, that we are all connected.

I can finally see myself again.

By : Dani Lee Collins

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