A break-up letter to Trust
Dear Trust,
I feel like I am participating in a potentially fatal experiment.
I know you, yet I do not know you, all in the same moment. You’re both tangible and abstract. Recently, you have emerged in micro and macro levels in my life; from my friendships and relationships in my local town and on the international stage.
Let’s be honest, the in-group, out-group psychology is rife with you and is overwhelming my sense of belonging. You tap into my existential wobbles between my Self and my social and our relationship materialises phycological safety or lack there of. I wonder if my imbalance is enhanced by lack of touch in these strange and uncertain times. My new familiar with virtual environments where the element of touch easily makes me feel removed when we’re not in proximity.
Are you and I ever in close proximity?
This duality of proximity and distance, intimacy and removal also feels unique – this space, potentially, allows me to connect on a deeper level, because of the disconnect. The intimacy feels less threatening somehow, I can be more vulnerable because there's more space between us. The liberation of distance allows me to trust the process, it feels like I have more power – to take control and do things I would not normally do. But with that comes exhaustion.
I have never seen your face. I can’t hear you. The feedback loops we have, feel at times as though they are loosening their grip on our connection, but your feedback gives me energy, an exchange – I need to get something back.
Are you an introvert or an extrovert? You make me an extrovert, where I feel insecure, like I don't exist. Without knowing you are there, just the sound of your breath or the shift of your chair even, I can’t tell if you’re with me or not. My internal wheel sometimes starts to work harder because I'm searching for a connection with you.
I need to be candid and tell you, I need a connection with you, otherwise we have this very passive relationship.
I get the impression that the connection you have with me is sometimes irrelevant and you focus on other relationships on a larger scale. But, just give me eye contact once in a while, so that I know you’re there for me too.
Maybe the connection with me is less important, but last year I felt we were a team.
But I know that you, Trust, have to be the leader sometimes and that you’re taking me on a journey, and that becomes powerful in itself. I need to be confident in the process. But with that comes an accountability between us.
What is interesting about you is that I don't necessarily have proof of you. Often, I only have proof of you when you’re broken, by your very nature you embody the ‘not knowing’. I just have to believe in you – which is challenging to say the least.
The thing about you is that you’re all about the unknown. I will never see you and you will never fully see me because we both need a persona to hide parts of ourselves. It is healthy for us to do that, otherwise we become an open book all the time. It is okay for us both to construct, curate and hide, it reminds me of that lovely quote about adolescent transitioning about hiding. “It’s a joy to be hidden, but a disaster not to be found”.
That classic idea of the Dream Work, hiding stuff that you'd rather not see or be aware of that protects us. When I think about dreams and the sense of believing in something, Father Christmas comes to mind – believing in something creates cohesion in the social fabric of life, elusive threads that loop us back together.
I’ll be honest, I only notice when you’re not there when you’re broken. So, it’s hard to prove you exist. It is so funny, in a world where we want certainty, you, Trust are an odd thing. You remind me of myself – a quality that fundamentally underpins who you are.
I want to leave you with something that we need to address. We have become mis-aligned due to our present uncertain circumstances. I have changed, and you might not admit it, but you have changed. I have fantasised about breaking up in order to re-connect with each other again, see each other for who we really are. I think this will help us move forward and improvise through life more beautifully.
All my love,
Faith
A letter to Trust from Faith inspired from Ma-kin sense conversation on the word "Trust". The group of reflectors: Lou Platt, John O’Reilly, Laura Cloke, Catherine Smith, Rachel Marsden, Hannah Alexander-Wright and Katherine Simpson. Photo by Kelly Sikkema on UnsplashWhat are ‘ma-kin sense’ articles?
Purpose
• Discuss as a group for 27 mins to reflect on a keyword that is prevalent or emerging in society. The conversation is written up as an article with doodles and notes accompanied.
Format
• Each person shares their observations on the key word and riff off each other.
So what
• The conversation is for self-reflection and collective transfer of knowledge – nothing more, nothing less.
• It is an opportunity to be in the moment, experimental and experiential to poke and prod as a collection of voices to excavate and test the edges of our boundaries.