Recently I’ve come face-to-face with what trust means. Giving trust to someone and also trusting myself – the hardest but most important trust of all. I call it The Trust Mirror. The background to this is that I paid someone to join an intensive business building course, with money accessed from a pension pot. This money is very precious. It represents 35 years in the workplace. As I’m currently not working, my intention was to use some to fund myself for the next 18 months from October 2019 to April 2021, while I invested in myself and hopefully build a business based on real skills and abilities.
But I had signs that all was not as it seemed, before I paid my money. The marketing for this intrigued me, but at first I thought ‘no’.
- The programme was for a group, with the intention that one style of coaching would fit all personalities and business types – because it was so powerful
- There was no structured programme or course outline, just a series of scheduled zoom calls
- The invoice, terms and conditions were sent after payment was received, rather than before
I now have two questions left that I’ve been asking myself for three weeks.
Why did I trust this person, with no evidence that they could deliver their claim?
I had every indication possible from myself that this was wrong for me BUT I ignored all those messages! I usually do a drum journey to ask my guides for advice, but I didn’t on this occasion!
Why didn’t I trust myself?
I finally applied my own insight to these questions. I trusted outside myself because I didn’t trust myself, and because I didn’t trust myself I was willing to trust outside myself. Do you see it’s the same coin? Endlessly spinning, causing pain and confusion and loss. Not just loss of resources, but loss of dignity and self-esteem. Causing me more doubt and fear and then prompting me to continue on this cycle.
I call it The Trust Mirror. When I trust myself first, my reflection back from the world is clear. But when I turn the coin, because I don’t trust myself, what I see reflected is the amount of smoke and confusion that others carry. The illusion is that this is my smoke and confusion and so I’m willing to believe that the answer lies with someone outside this mess.
Believing in myself, that flame of instinct. I’ve been fighting to hear that small, quiet voice that sits at the bottom of my sternum and calls out ‘yes!’ or ‘no!’. All our upbringing, our culture and our society programme us to think our way through doubts and fears with logic. We learn that doubts and fears are wrong and they hold us back from following our heart’s desire.
Well, I think it depends on what use I put the fear and doubt to. It’s old programming, it’s possibly outdated in our society but it still has a function, to protect us. In this particular case I should have listened to the doubt and confusion I felt as a sign that something wasn’t right for me.
You see my little quiet voice of instinctual knowing is very, very quiet. A mere whisper, the smallest of sighs, the briefest beat of tiny butterfly wings and if I miss its voice, I don’t get a second chance.
I’ve learnt a valuable lesson on how to trust myself. The subtle little clues that show me a yes or a no. If I don’t hear this voice, and if I feel doubt and confusion about a course, a person, an offering or whatever else, I’m now just going to walk away and let it sit with me some more. Likewise, if I miss a deadline so be it. If I’m meant to participate in something it will come around again. I know that Divine Timing is always perfect – that tiny drop of creativity in a vast arena that produces a perfect outcome.
Will I stop trusting people? I may for a while. But not forever. The person I need to trust most, right now, is myself and making sure I can hear that small voice and recognise the signs that something isn’t right for me is a work in progress.
Having spent nearly 20 years studying and working in the Environment and Conservation Sector, I’m now searching out a new path that includes daily earthcentric/shamanic spiritual practice; craft making in the form of mosaic, feather, leather and bead jewellery, sculpture and drawing; currently exploring my oldest and enduring loves of history, mystery and writing. I live opposite Hainault Forest in Essex, UK with my husband and ginger companion cat, Purdy.
Also by Susan Rescue
Previously by Susan And My Heart Cried Out
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