Broken Trust

When the house alarm emitted a series of short, shrill tones, I was immersed in meditation. I refocused on my mantra and tried to breathe deeply. A few seconds later, two more high-pitched beeps followed. I sighed and trudged over to the control panel. Haven’t we all come to expect that electronics will let us down at some point? We love the conveniences of technology, but we know better than to trust them to operate at 100% efficacy forever. 

And when it comes to people …

There are people we trust because they have proven that we can count on them to treat us fairly, offer good advice, and keep our secrets. But there exist individuals who we expect more from, but who let us down. It is these folks, the ones who disrespect or dishonor us, who cause scar tissue to build up around our emotional center.

When I was in college, I shared a house with scores of my sorority sisters. At the end of the second-floor hallway was a huge walk-in closet where we stored fancy dresses and evening wear. When sorority rush came around, a traffic jam developed around the Formal Closet, and we had to take turns entering the clothing packed closet. After locating our swanky outfits, we headed off to the lounge to wait in line for one of the ironing boards. Sometimes, the route from Formal Closet to the lounge resulted in trading our formal wear with a friend for something we fancied more. 

Because I served on the Panhellenic side of the rush experience, I was sequestered in the Indiana University Memorial Union with fellow members of the Panhel Board and sorority rush counselors. We wore sweatpants and sweatshirts, not fancy dresses, hose, and high heels. When Rush Week ended, I returned to my sorority house where I met the new pledge class. Along with the entire house, I learned in detail what had transpired during my absence by watching a slide show compiled from Rush week photos. In one of the frames, I spied a roommate sporting the blue chiffon cocktail dress I’d stowed away in the Formal Closet. 

The revelation was stunning. My roomie hadn’t asked me if she could borrow the dress, and I wouldn’t have let her if she had. It was my mother’s dress, one that Mom allowed me to bring to school with the promise I’d be careful with it. My sorority sister had overstepped the boundaries of our friendship. As a result, our relationship fizzled. I reasoned that if I couldn’t trust her with my clothes, how could I trust her with my secrets? I went on to forge different friendships.

No one was physically harmed in the borrowed dress example. It was just a dress and a thoughtless act by a casual friend. But what about those bigger trust busters? The errors in judgement that once discovered leave us not just scratching our heads, but which usher in disappointment, rejection, and loss. 

In my memoir, Twice a Daughter, I share how in the first conversation with my birth mom, I asked for my birth father’s name. His identity had been legally omitted from my birth record. I held my breath as she spelled out his last name. With this information my confidential intermediary went on to search for my father. Eighteen months later, he couldn’t be found. As a result, the judge overseeing my search had no choice but to dismiss my case. 

A year later, I hired a genealogist who stumbled upon my birth father’s true identity. When I confronted my birth mother about this, she admitted that she had given me the wrong name. Her lie caused me to distrust her. Our relationship stalled. Unlike the situation with my college roommate and the faulty house alarm, the bond with my birth mother was unique. Irreplaceable. Swapping her out for a new and improved model wasn’t an option. Besides I had spent a lifetime wondering about her and years trying to bring her into my life.

Someone very wise said that it takes years to build up trust, seconds to destroy, and forever to repair. Faulty machines may be easier to fix than relationships, but from where I sit, the deep connections we forge with special people are worth the time and trouble.  

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