The Agony of TRUST

To trust.
An incessant topic of contemplation inside my tumultuous brain.
How many times do I have to be trampled upon before I decide enough is enough?
Ere long have I laid my heart upon the altar of complete openness only to gasp painfully, clutching at my chest as the dull ache once again sears through me.
It will be different this time, my foolish spirit pleads to the wisdom of my mind.
Unfortunately, the wisdom with which my mind gently admonishes is only gained by the relentless slicing of my soul.
To love and let love.
There is no easy way out. For if I hold back, never giving or living and always expecting angst, surely I shall become a bitter and forlorn young woman.
I am young yet…still, I find in myself a cynical monster slowly but surely rearing its hideous face and taunting me with maniacal laughter as it slurps up the poison of betrayal upon which it thrives.
If walls could talk, many a sad tale would they relate of a mascara-smudged tenant and cheerless songs adrift in the dark, black night wrapped protectively around the one who bravely wears joy in the sunny day, midnight a thankful shelter to her who needs the solace of tears.
There are times when I wish wholeheartedly to slam the door in the face of those who make their intentions towards me known. I want to believe that they are true hearts, but so many times have I been disenchanted that I subconsciously draw iron bars about me as fortification.
A quote from a recent film put the outlook of our modern world into harsh perspective for me. As Giselle prepares to marry the love of her life in the perfect fairy-tale world of make believe, the evil witch plots to send her to the most horrific place she can imagine, the real world, a place where the witch believes “Happily ever after doesn’t exist.”
I speak not only of romantic love or relationships, but any time two people connect in any way, the beauty of new trust lies innocent and unblemished, hopeful and ready to blossom into something strong and lovely beyond imagination. How I ache for each new chapter of trust and love in my life to thrive and prove that old witch wrong.
A wise man once said, “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it completely intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it careful round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable…the only place outside of heaven where you can be safe from the dangers of love is hell.”
Robert Frost once said, “I can sum up what I’ve learned about life in three words – it goes on.” How true this rings. I must take a breath and land with a splash into the winding river of life. No matter how big the obstacle, the river’s water always somehow makes it through, even if it is in almost imperceptible drips.
I suppose I should take C.S. Lewis’ and Frost’s words to heart and realize that to fully live in this crazy adventure of life I must be able to keep an open and fresh heart, realizing that there are good times and bad, but there are neither without both. Each wound sustained is a story to tell, a shoulder of support for another fallen comrade, and through the healing process, valuable lessons which can only come with time.