“Trust is someone’s actions matching their words, over time.”
I don’t know who said this. I was typing something at my desk with the TV on in the background when I heard it and it somehow has managed to stick with me since.
First of all, I never really thought about the definition of “trust,” but that’s most certainly it. And secondly, when I decided that was it I realized a mistake I’ve been making for years. I meet so many new people all of the time. And I often find myself saying about this random third-party participant, “I like her. She seems trustworthy.” Or, “He’s nice. He seems like someone you can trust.”
But presuming trust is ludicrous because there must be history for there to be trust. And even then, the two are not mutually exclusive. You could befriend or date someone for six months, a year, longer and that person’s words may fail to routinely match their actions. In this case, you have the history, but not the trust. Trust issues, maybe. But definitely not trust.
So when you think about the people who you really trust, whose actions have matched their words time and time again, it’s very humbling. That person felt you were worth it to do what they said they were going do for an extended length of time and never waver. To show up, stand up, and speak up for you. I can only think of a handful of people who have earned that medal in my life, and conversely, who I’ve been able to make that commitment to myself. But that’s okay. That’s how it should be.
While I love the definition I heard because it made me think, here’s a stab at my own: trust is an exclusive club of exquisite people.
My mom worked for the school district for 20+ years. I, along with several of my friends from childhood, still remember her as being the coolest "lunch mom" on the planet. She often let me blow her special whistle that indicated that our 30 minutes of recess was up and it was time to head to the cafeteria for 30 minutes of eating. Together, that power hour was known as "lunch".
Recently, my mom informed me that the entire dynamic of lunch at the elementary school I remembered so fondly has changed. The modern-day lunch moms have now instituted a rule of thirds: 20 minutes to play, 20 minutes to eat, and 20 minutes of "quiet time."
Give me recess, or give me death was my first thought. How dare someone infringe on a child's right to play and then eat a PB&J? But the more I ruminated over it, the more I realized that this change may actually be for the best.
As a now-adult, I see "meditation" everywhere - specifically the benefits of it. Even my husband is an avid "Head Spacer" who has asked me a million times to join him. Despite my greatest intentions and desires to reset, recharge, refocus...I simply can't. Meditation to me feels like archery. Like a skill I do not have and am unable to just "pick up".
When I try, mind shifts from calm to chaos so easily. No matter how much I try to visualize myself floating on a cloud, I can only picture my to-do list raining down on me like an avalanche.
That leaves me to wonder...if quiet time was something instilled in my educational system at a young age, would I be proficient at it today the way that I know how to write, read, and do basic math? And if so, how much value could that have brought to my life and overall mental health?