I trust you
3 simple words that a train guard said to me when I earnestly showed him my 26-30 railcard. I. Trust. You. Yet it was beautiful. In world where trust is currency, he afforded me a lot. I’ve been living with imposter syndrome to the point where I believe myself even a liar to myself. For thinking I can do this. This thing called life. I haven’t hacked it the way other people have and every time I say “I’m fine,” or “I’m well.” It is a lie. Especially the “I’m well” that’s quite the whopper. I haven’t been well for a long time. I have been blowing up Samaritans hotline trying to cope with day to day life as I get overwhelmed by the smallest things. Read “hole in the heart” the truth is I’m dead inside. Hope is a pipedream where I get my circumstances better than they are now. In 1 year’s time my life will be unrecognisable if the past 5 years have taught me anything. So I seem to be existing and not living. All in the year when I thought my mantra would be John 10:10. “Life and life in all its fullness. “
The truth is I have pressured myself to be great because I could always “make” myself do things before. But my body is tired. It went through a divorce, 3 house mortgages (including my own) a house sale, my mother’s constant yelling, a hellish job where I worked ungodly hours, my father’s telling me “I can afford it” when it came to bailing out my parents with a lifechanging amount of money, my father causing “an international Incident” to get a distant cousin money yet wouldn’t pay me to start a business with that same money so I could pay my way out of the previous statement, starting a new job, my father’s illness and untimely passing and sleeping on the floor for 4 days either side of the funeral when there was a comfortable bed not 10ft away in the name of “tradition.” Not to mention my brother showing me fraudulent documents the day my dad died, and my mum inviting my abusive ex-husband, showing up at my father’s funeral like a spectre which meant I had nightmares. Then there was my mum calling that same abusive ex-husband to check on me when I’d fallen asleep after a driving lesson shortly after the funeral and therefore didn’t answer my phone. My goddaughter jumping on the bed my father died on and her mother and my favourite aunt cutting me off for the sake of a simple misunderstanding. Not to mention the wickedness that my driving instructor put me through Those are the things I can remember off head. Actually it’s a miracle I survived 2021. Especially the first quarter, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse…it got worse. A lot worse.
So you can imagine why 2022 had to be “my year” the comeback queen. Except it isn’t. I need to sue someone under the Geneva convention because my life is becoming the definition of “cruel and unusual punishment” which means I get my day in court… in the Hauge.
For anyone saying “You just need GAAWD” I have 2 words for you, “shut up”. Actually, I have 3. “Shut up bitch.” Actually its 4. “Shut up stupid bitch” and if I ever hear such nonsense from you again. I will reach over the internet and slap you personally. And I’ll enjoy doing it too. We need to deal with the reality of my situation. My greatest fear at present is dying. My life has been so filled with pain and suffering, if I were to die today, my life would be a tragedy. That is the saddest thing I have ever had to write. When my abusive ex husband was at his zenith of cruelty and I was suicidal, the only thing that kept me from ending my life was that thought. If I were tod die at 27 my life would have been a tragedy, but if I were to live another day I would be able to turn it around, only if I was still “in the game.” Fast forward 3 years and I am in the same situation mentally for different reasons. My father’s death and the horror show that was 2021/22 has brought me here. If something doesn’t change soon, I fear I will die at 30 whilst my heart still beats. I’m currently on life-support, moving through life as if sleepwalking through a bad dream. My dreams of becoming a wife and a mother, and my best self are as distant from me as Morocco, a holiday I was meant to go on next week, but in a cruel twist of fate, I won’t be going.
The situation is as follows. I suffer from crippling loneliness and isolation. I have mentioned previously I can count on one hand the amount of times I get touched in a month. 5. The answer is 5 times a month on average. I have friends who I interact with regularly but they alone cannot fill my cup. I need to have someone to rely on but the truth is I am not healthy enough to be in a relationship. I have called Samaritans hotline 7 times in the last 2 weeks and those are indisputable facts. That includes once today, not even 3 hours before I started writing this post. I cannot place that burden on another person. I need to be mentally well enough to be in a relationship, even if being in a relationship is what I need to become mentally well.
Initially when I thought about that man’s words and its effect on me it was one of such simple joy. To have someone place a simple amount of trust in you is such a wonderful thing. It did me no end of good. Our interaction was simple. He was a train guard and I pulled out my ticket, I’d claimed a railcard discount and so I pulled out my railcard app on my phone to prove the discount was valid. Then he said those 3 simple words “I trust you” and then went on to remark about my crotchet, which I was working on when he asked for my ticket, saying his mum had taught him how and he found it relaxing. I agreed. I then paid for an extension ticket to a new destination, he handed me my ticket and went on his way.
Its so sad that that conversation was yesterday evening and I can remember it word for word because that meant so much for me. So greedy for human interaction and pleasant conversation which my life has been so devoid of.
It made me think of my first husband. I did not trust him and that manifested in everyday life. As I have mentioned previously, he used to sexually assault and rape me and therefore I didn’t let him touch me. I didn’t consent, because I knew he’d do whatever he wanted to anyway and it was my way of holding onto my free will. I always told myself my next husband I would know he’s my husband because I’d trust him implicitly. I’m a very trusting person as I am very relaxed and casual in my personal life. I like the peace it brings. I believe that a man should provide stability and the fact that my next husband will not lie or cheat or be frivolous with money will allow me to trust him as an honest man. I will be able to relax because I have lived a pressured life for so long.
It made me think of some words a friend said to me. “Every man in your life has failed you” much as I loved my father I have come to peace with a long time ago the fact that his way of loving me was not always what I needed and that left me with lots of trust issues and lots of fear. I can’t call it a failure exactly; it was simply him working on imperfect information as to what I needed. Because my father had survived abject poverty, he didn’t see anything wrong with putting me through relative poverty. But that, as I said left me with lots of issues especially around money. Every other male role model in my life almost without exception, has failed me deeply. Failed to protect me, which has left me a woman unable to discern a man’s protection, having so few examples of a man’s healthy love and attention and not used to being treated well.
For me, trust brings peace, brings joy, allows space for kindness to occur. When my heart is filled with pain it is the knowledge that one day, my life will be better, one day I will find a man who I will love, and respect and trust and he will do likewise. There is, I believe no greater honour that another human being can place in you than to say those 3 words.
I trust you.
Grace and Courage.
Annetta Mother Smith