I am a person of little trust. I usually don’t trust people. I often don’t trust the laws of nature. I sometimes don’t even trust what I’ve seen or heard.
I’ve regretted my lack of trust. It seems like I should have healed better after all the personal work I’ve done. At the same time, my lack of trust in others and doubting what they say can be a great asset, allowing me to press forward when some say turn back.
But first, the downside of the trust deficit.
The Trail Almost Not Taken
When I recently came across this sign designating a hiking trail in a campground, my first thought was: “There is no trail. There once was a trail, but the trail is no longer there. Don’t even bother taking that trail because it doesn’t exist.”
For several days in the campground, walking up and down the paved roads and coming across that sign, I didn’t question my thinking about the trail because I am a person of little trust. Just because a sign says there is a trail doesn’t mean there is a trail. I’m no fool.
A few more days into my stay, I saw this sign for the trail in a different part of the campground. A few days later, I realized: Wow! Those two signs must be designating the beginning and end of the same trail. Duh! But, as I already decided, it’s the beginning and end of a trail that is no longer there.
A few more days in, I decided to see how far the nonexistent trail went up the mountain. Each time I came to a blind curve or a tree that had fallen over the path, I figured that was the end. However, upon further examination, there was always more trail. But after a while on the trail, I turned back lest I find myself in outer space with no way home.
The next day, I tried again, and I went so far that I came to the end of the trail, and thus to the matching sign. Ahhh. The trail does exist. It’s a whole trail. And it’s not very long.
So that’s pretty much how my life goes. I learned early in this life, or perhaps in a previous life, to not trust. After more than 35 years of rigorous self improvement, I’m beginning to think that I may never trust fully. But I can work around it, accommodate it, deal with it, and still have a good life. I can still get on the trail I’m 99 percent sure doesn’t exist and see what happens.
Sometimes Lack of Trust Is Mo Bettah
I’m in my current campground partly because I didn’t trust what another person said. The encounter happened at a desert campground where 100 degrees is pretty standard summer climate. It could be doable with shady trees. Unfortunately, to get any kind of cell service, I was forced to choose a site on a bluff that offered little shade. Most sites that have shade are leased by the year and not available for transients like myself.
I had mentioned to one of my RV neighbors, a lovely woman I’ll call Cynthia, a good person who works for the local hospice, that I wanted to move to another campground several hours away and included in our campground membership because it would be cooler. As it was, the dog and I had been miserable. I would drive 20 miles to a dog park just to get her some grass to relax on while I worked on my laptop. Then, when we got back to camp, she refused to get out of the car. I finally figured out her poor paws would be burning on the gravel leading to our air conditioned trailer. I thought: I’ve got to get us out of here!
So when I mentioned my plan to Cynthia, who has only been to this one campground in our membership, she said the one I was thinking of going to was just as hot. Really? I could see clearly on my weather app that it was not as hot. But maybe she knew something? Maybe I shouldn’t drive the 2.5 hours to find out?
I didn’t trust Cynthia, bless her heart, and I moved me and the girl and The Tiny to this mountain and got the best campsite and we have been pretty much in bliss ever since. While the temperature is 75 degrees here today, it’s 88 degrees in my old campground. Next Monday, the forecast is 93 degrees here, and 105 degrees in my old campground. And, I’m in breezy (not windy) shade all day long.
So pushing forward, against Cynthia’s advice, served me well.
Still, I need to get better at trusting the laws of nature.
Is it Windy? No, it Turned Out to Be a Flat Tire
On the way to the mountain where I currently though temporarily live, I drove several hours over busy freeways. I had no problems with The Tiny or my vehicle. Eventually, the GPS told me to get off on a 2-lane highway that would lead me to the mountain campground. At some point, I felt a little something that felt like wind hitting the trailer. That feeling is a little like being on the downward slope of a roller coaster, where your organs are slightly lifted from their cavities. You accept that feeling because you know you are on a roller coaster. You don’t panic. You have what my a friend calls “situational awareness.”
So on the overland highway, when I felt that gut-lifting wind feeling, I did what I always do and looked over at the weeds and bushes and trees alongside the highway to see if they were moving in the wind as well. They were not. They were stiff and stable.
At this point, a person who trusted the laws of nature would think: Uh oh, something’s up. I best stop the car, get out, and investigate.
But because I have this innate lack of trust, I decided it was nothing. The fact that my trailer was moving in a funny way was not connected to any known physical phenomenon. It just was.
That turned out to be a big mistake. I didn’t discover the flat tire that had caused the odd movement for many more miles. The trailer is so light (around 1,700 lbs.) and my towing capacity so much greater (6200 lbs.) that the sensation was muted.
When I finally discovered my flat tire and pulled over, I saw that what probably started out as a nail hole or slight tear turned into a full-out mangling of the tire. Plus, the gorgeous T@B rim ended up making contact with the roadway and the edges of it got scratched. That really bugs me. I once drove my VW Rabbit home with a flat tire and discovered I had likewise scratched the rim. Don’t do that. It bugged me so much that I eventually took it to Hubcap Heaven and paid $210 to make it smooth again. I will eventually do that with this rim, but not here in this mountain hamlet. Replacing both of my tires with new and mighty all-terrain, the best money can buy tires, will be all the small shop here can handle. And I’m grateful for that.
To Trust or Not to Trust?
I’m still not sure when to trust and when not to trust. I am glad I don’t follow the advice of everything everyone says, but I do need to take the laws of nature more seriously.
I got really bad advice early on in life when it was suggested to me that I had a choice of several careers: typist in a typing pool, bank teller, or grocery store cashier.
All of those scared the hell out of me because you had to wear nylons (Google it, youngsters) and I was heavy and hot and couldn’t find nylons that fit or that didn’t get a run in the first hour.
Also, as I am an introvert and thrive on quiet reflection, those careers that put me in the presence of other people all day every day would be a killer for me. I’m glad I rejected that advice (though I did work at a long string of minimum wage retail jobs before getting into recovery) and eventually found a life that works for me.
Even working in a newsroom for two years put me into a depression. I thought: Unless I can get out of here and become a freelancer and take naps when my body demands a nap, I’m gonna die! When I gave my notice at the newsroom job in 1989, my peers said: Are you sure? Yes! It was the best move of my life.
So living a successful life is a delicate balance between trusting and not trusting. We don’t want to miss the trails, but we don’t want to end up in soul-sucking situations just because somebody said we should. I now ask all the molecules in the universe for the knowledge to know when to trust and when to not trust, and to learn my custom-made lessons when I make the wrong, stupid call. It will happen again. I will mess up. You can trust me on that one.