Lora came over today to run eleven miles with me and although leaving my house was the last possible thing that I could ever imagine doing today, I did it because she forced me to. That's what friends do. With about a mile left with the sun shining in our faces, the winter wind feeling up our shirts, I told her that I needed that run more than a 40 year-old virgin needs to get laid. Sometimes I don't know what's best for me until it smacks me in the face.
Post-run rewards of Fort Pub nachos and beer fueled our regular analytical conversations about life and love. We lamented the fact that as divorced women (ohpleasekillmenow) we have huge issues with love and trust. We're standing at the crossroads with our loves, so badly wanting to move forward and live fully but that fear, that debilitating fear of impending pain looms over us like the shadow of an axe in a cheesy horror movie right before it slices the protagonist in half. And if we're honest with ourselves (and Fort Pub beer and nachos almost always guarantees incriminating amounts of honesty) we would admit that sometimes the fear of getting hurt is so intense that we almost wish that axe would just come down and slice us to bits already.
As we sat upstairs on my bed and talked, we didn't really come up with any sort of answer. No profound conclusion, no "aha" moment. No. But what we did agree on is that trust is a choice, and we'd rather choose trust and let love in than push trust away and lose out on the greatest gift invented.
My dear friend Jane brought her son to the hospital this weekend for a burst appendix. She watched the doctors wheel half of herself into the operating room with the trust that he would be healed. I leave the house every morning choosing to trust that when I drive through the green light that the person to my left will stay still. We give our love in trust that it will be cherished and respected. If we didn't do any of this, then Jane's son wouldn't be alive, I wouldn't leave the house, and the world would be without love.
Although it seems like a tough choice to make, trusting really is a no-brainer. Trust is a choice, and its rewards are plenty.
I like this one, Sooz. Trust is a choice. I look at it as "why wouldn't I trust?" Broken trust isn't a reflection of you...it is a reflection of the person who broke it. All you can do is try to live life on your own terms. This being said, I hope I don't get smoked at a light.
ReplyDeleteSo true. And I hope you don't get smoked at a light either.
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