Some things in you don’t go all at once. They disappear little by little, bit by bit.
Trust is something that is all but gone.
When I find a nugget of it, I protect it so fiercely.
What I do feel toward others is mostly just a CIA-level paranoia. And I have to not feel that in order to let my brain relax. The trouble is that I can’t forget things.
Gifted, they said when I was a kid. And I got stuck in a special class.
At my job it’s useful and at times a mildly amusing curiosity. It has helped me pass tests. It has helped me remember a vague reference I heard on a documentary five years ago and look it up in order to add scholarly bulk to papers nearly unheard of in undergraduate work.
But I can’t forget. Not even when I drink myself into oblivion. Nothing wipes away the erosion.
I had a dream last night where animals begged me for names and then proceeded to rather obviously lie to me. So yes, I see it everywhere, even in a dream about a raccoon and some large rodent walking into a library. My mind’s natural assumption is that they would lie, omit and tell incomplete tales.
I hug my relatives that have lied and manipulated and left things out, but I feel nothing toward them. Like hugging one of those cardboard cutouts of a movie character or a sports star.
I think we teach people a lot of ways to effectively deal with things, but not about being stuck around liars. Often in the workplace, you will (by those above you in management) be made to feel that the right thing to do is to diplomatically overlook obvious lies in order to further the job goals.
We want people to keep the peace, keep the boat from rocking. If they don’t, who will sign off on that time report and who will come over for Thanksgiving?
Otherwise, we freeze it out and freeze them out. Create our spaces and walls of ice. Hide money and resources from them. Keep our free time to ourselves rather than get mixed up with them.
The problem is that when people lie, it is because they feel no obligation to be truthful to us. And that hurts. It is a very deep cut that goes to the soul of our worth in that person’s eyes. Your heart says, “The truth is, I wasn’t worth the truth.”
And it is harder and harder to lay down that inner part of you that is looking for a place to hide from it all. That part can be ignited so easily. A wrong look. A sideways glance. A mistake. You see nothing but gradients and shadows. You become pleasantly surprised when the truth is there and someone doesn’t find some way to screw you over. You weren’t expecting it.
There aren’t a lot of effective ways to just function. To let your brain rest. To let go. We need to find better ways to call out those who harm. I know some ways that do work with some types, but for our own mental sanctity, we need to work on more.
Because … we ARE worth more. We DO deserve the truth. We DO deserve honesty. People who see otherwise are the problem, and they need to be made to understand that in a way that doesn’t make us, the truth -seekers and truth-knowers, into the ones who are told we are judgemental. People who see otherwise are projecting their own lack of worth onto us. And we don’t need to allow that to happen or impede us. We need better tools to address it. To live with it without it taking over our minds, invading dreams about woodland creatures in libraries. Mostly, we need more truth– but that isn’t going to happen. To take from my evangelical upbringing, you are not able to “convict the spirit” if it is unwilling.
We have to find ways of letting the reality of that be and defending ourselves effectively and finding ways to call people out when we can. Truth is a disinfectant. We need to use it more often.
Solace, resolution. They are beautiful ideas in stories, but may never happen in life. Some will never change or be rehabilitated.
We have to find better ways to live with both outcomes.