Trust

Over and over again, in the last few months or so, as I've found my way from the turmoil of the last couple of years to something a little calmer and more secure, I've pretty regularly floundered and slid backwards. Each time that occurs, someone admonishes me to trust; trust those who love me; trust my path; trust my instincts; trust that the future will be as good, or maybe better than the past was. It is one of those words that is so ubiquitous to discussions of the lifestyle, that I suspect we really don't give it a whole lot of thought. It is kind of the "take two aspirin and call me in the morning" of the BDSM community.



I have some trouble with the ubiquitous group chatter about trust that pervades the conversations within our community. We tend to emphasize the need for bottom partners to develop trust in those with whom they would play. There is plenty of verbiage about how to check out potential partners, how to set up safe calls, how to negotiate a scene, and all the various and complicated dance steps that are part of entering into a relationship that will likely, eventually be described as grounded in "trust."



All of that careful perusal of one another makes total sense in the beginning of a power-based relationship dynamic. There is no question that there are predatory beasts that swim in our seas, and it is wise to very carefully consider who one chooses to "take a chance on." Making the wrong call at that stage can get you hurt -- and not in a "good" way.


But. Once the beginning jockeying for position is done; once partners enter into some sort of on-going relationship; once there is some burgeoning acquaintance established -- then it is time to begin to understand how that basic tenet of "trust" really does work.


It isn't difficult to find dictionary-style definitions that give us a sense that trust devolves on the character, integrity, and stability of the individual in whom that trust is vested. But, realistically, it is just as easy to find lots and lots and lots of anguished diatribes about "trust broken," about hurts inflicted at the most vulnerable point, about belief and hope quashed when dreams get dashed against the sharp rocks of day to day living with another, fallible human person. Read far enough, and it is hard to avoid the language construct that tells us all that trust is a gift that we give (at considerable personal risk), and which we may take back at will if things don't go as we planned.



It is a tit for tat sort of interpersonal equation balancing that I find disquieting.



I have a different view of the nature of "trust" as it is practiced in interpersonal relationships. I believe that trust is more akin to an investment and is not, as is commonly held, something that is ours to choose to give -- or not give.



Investments have very particular characteristics, and they are simply different than gifts. If I am going to choose to invest my money, my time, my energy in something, I am going to consider carefully. I'm going to do my homework. I'm going to contemplate what the odds are that my investment will pay off. I'm going to research the potential risks, and I'm going to understand what my capacity is for accepting those risks, and possibly sustaining the losses if my gamble doesn't pay off. I am also going to evaluate my ability to weather periods of time during which my investment doesn't immediately pay off. Investments are undertakings that include a significant time perspective. It isn't necessarily about getting what you hope for in the short run.



I also believe that to practice trust is an exercise in mutuality. One chooses to trust, but there must be some concomitant mutual trust investment from the other side of the relationship for the seeds of trust to grow and blossom. We exchange power, vulnerabilities, hopes, and it is imperative that partners find a balance point. I've got to believe in that continued, ethical presence, and I need to know that my partner is invested in my participation in the relationship as well. It is foundational that we are "believed in" even as we choose to believe.

So, trust as investment may not be experienced as a steady pull in our relationships. Like the stock market, the sense of trust may rise and fall with the vagaries of daily living. There may be times, perhaps even extended periods of time, when we feel as if our "trust" is being broken, betrayed, de-valued, or simply not appreciated and reciprocated. If we see that trust as a possession, a gift, a treasure to be extended provisionally, then those dark, dry spells become the excuse for picking up our marbles and heading off to try to find better odds somewhere else. It is a fair-weather relational bargain.



So. I understand the impetus that drives all that well-meaning advice that encourages me to "trust." I know there are good hearts invested in offering that vision. It just doesn't work for me. I know that there are times when all feels good and right in my world, and it is easy to put myself out there with great belief and trust in the bargains I am making. That is a great feeling. However, I also know that there are times when things do not feel good or right or fair or even very hopeful. Things happen. Life moves always forward. Stresses and schedules and events sometimes conspire to throw up obstacles, and that makes it hard to just "trust." When that happens, I need to remember that I am investing for the long haul. Just as a nest egg gets built up by consistent, regular, dependable, unfailing investment, I believe relationship builds in the same way. Trust is terrific. It is not some fragile, pie-in-the-sky ideal. It is the ground of everything else we do. Irrevocable through good and bad.



swan