The Journey

He told me he loved me. I believed him.

He told me he adored me. I adored him.

He told me he wanted to keep me safe. I was hurt over and over.

He said he was sorry. I believed him.

He said he loved me. I thought I loved him.

He said he could change, would change. I gave in.

And so the cycle continues…

Until the end.

Trust does not come easily anymore, and yet somehow, it still comes easier than I think it should. How many times have I kicked myself for trusting again, when that trust was not warranted? How many times have I paid the price? I am too ashamed to count. I feel fresh disappointment in myself each time.
I wonder, “When will I ever learn?”
I admonish myself, “The only thing you can trust in the world is the Great Divine and yourself.”

But then there I go again, trusting….

It is a tragic flaw: Wanting to see and believe only the best at the cost of seeing what is real — choosing to see in others all that they could be rather than who they are. Some call it beautiful, but in reality, it leaves me feeling stupid. I find myself fighting the dark draw of jadedness, once again.

But that’s the sticky thing about trusting the Universe, God, the Divine…. People disappoint over and over, invariably, but if I refuse to trust a human ever again, I do not believe I can truly trust in the Divine. Some deep knowing within me tells me they are inseparable: We and It. What a conundrum. I am haunted by it, and I am angry about it.

Trusting the Divine means trusting that “The Great Is” (as I sometimes like to call the entity that supersedes our little human concepts of the word God) will carry me through the pain, the disappointment, the jadedness and the darkness when it rises up in that ominous wave threatening to swallow the light in me once and for all. Trusting the Divine means that no matter how many times I am lied to, manipulated or misled, I must come back to the light and believe that something far greater than me has got my back. And the crazy thing is, It proves that It does. Time after time after time (thank you, Cyndi Lauper).

Even so, the temptation to throw in the towel is so great, sometimes. The truth is, I am wrestling with it intently right now. I want to close up shop, batten down the hatches and lock the shutters on my openness, warmth and regrettable trust in others. My hope is that, if I do, I can avoid the incredible turmoil that recurs each time the old pain of disappointment and broken trust is touched within me, ripping open a wound so old, and yet so fresh, that I have not yet begun to heal it.

I feel those walls closing in around me, layer upon protective layer of cocoon, and I welcome the closing. I long to melt into the nothingness of solitude, to be wrapped in the blissful peace of withdrawal. I am surrounded by beautiful people and beautiful places all day long and I am content to absorb the first degree warmth of their beauty as it bounces off of me, but I feel myself growing increasingly reticent to let my own warmth leak out any further. I’ve already lost too much of it, I’m afraid. Too long have I carelessly poured–or spilled–it out where it would never be protected much less returned.

Yet no matter how many times it feels justified and warranted, I can’t truly bring myself to do it, to stop trusting in my fellow man. That is what scares me most right now. I am terrified to trust in others, and I am terrified to stop. I am too raw to allow anyone else near my depleted and precious reserves of warmth and trust. I feel that I must keep them now only for myself, my truest and most trustworthy friend. But if I withdraw all faith in my fellow man, how can I draw near to my Divine Source, without which I will surely wither and die?

My heart refuses to do it right now, but my higher mind softly whispers to me through the night, “Heyyyy…remember how, when you choose to return to Love and to keep your heart open, it is always rewarded?” I give it the side eye, raising one eyebrow in acknowledgement, but I refuse to respond. Not yet. I’m not ready.

In my first draft of this post, I tried to write my way to a different ending, to propel myself to what I believe is right and true, the whisperings of my higher mind. I would be lying if I ended on that note. The truth of what I feel is that I have been given every reason to forego faith in my fellow man. I need some solid evidence, some verifiable proof, that it is worth letting and keeping these walls down. At this point, I require divine intervention to open my heart back up and allow my warmth and faith and love and trust to pour freely from me once again. Anything less would be reckless.

I have not crossed over to the other side yet, so I will not bullshit you. I am where I am, and at the moment, I cannot even write myself to another place. Like the average American trying to decide between gas or groceries, I cannot afford to keep offering my trust to others. The cost is simply too high, and I am out of the necessary funds.

…In spite of my fear, I still feel the most palpable presence of Divine Love with me here in my cocoon. Perhaps there is still some divine intervention waiting for me down the road. I will let you know if it comes.