With Pure (?) Intentions
What does it take for you to have trust in another human being? What kind of criteria do you personally have for deeming someone as trustworthy? Or is it something you don’t even think about, something completely based on intuition?
If you are one of those people who have been victimized by their peers, you most likely don’t go ahead trusting every single person you ever come in contact with. You most likely suffer from some type of trust issues and insecurities in social situations. Having trouble instilling faith in others is a common trauma response for those of us who have had our trust violated too many times in the past: “How am I supposed to know if this time things are different? How am I supposed to know if YOU are different than the rest?”
Then, on top of all that, if you also have borderline personality disorder, a mental illness that is characterized by lack of emotional permanence to those closest to you, you are truly out of luck. And to all of you out there who have faced and still face these struggles on a daily basis, I want you to hear this now: I see you, your feelings are valid, and I know how painful and difficult it is to let someone get close to you ever again – especially when your past was filled with nothing but deceitful and exploitative people who took your trust in them for their own good. And I am just so sorry all of that happened to you.
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Wouldn’t it be nice if people were logical in their actions? For example, when someone gives you a present, wouldn’t it be amazing if you could trust in the fact that they are giving you that present as an expression of gratitude and affection? Wouldn’t this world just be a better place if we didn’t even have to entertain the idea that someone might do something nice for you with the dirtiest intentions?
One time, my Friend was hosting a party of sorts at her place. We were all in elementary at the time, so the party was more like a juice get-together. My Friend was passing down invites to everyone in the class, and I was expecting to be left out as I always was. But for some reason, she came up to me and handed me an invite too.
“Please come, I would love to have you there!”
She seemed so sincere, and I was a lonely Kid, so I took up on the offer.
The day of the party arrived, and we all went to my Friend’s house. She lived in a two-story detatched house, and her room was on the second floor. The room was as big as me and my mom’s entire living room. I was in awe.
I don’t remember much of the party, but one thing about that day has been stuck in my mind all these years. Maybe because I still have the physical evidence that it really happened.
My Friend opened the doors of her wardrobe. She had a huge amount of clothes, way more than an 11-year-old girl would ever need. She pulled out some of her coolest pieces to show us, so that we could ooh and aah at her beautiful collection of garments. She was talking about how a lot of the clothes she had were too small for her now because she had finally hit puberty and she couldn’t wear a lot of the tops she had anymore. As she was talking about the changes her body was going through in extremely uncomfortable detail, she pulled out a jacket.
jacket, part 1.
“This is an ONLY, it was really expensive. My mom told me that I needed to get rid of it, it doesn’t fit me anymore but because it was sooo pricey, mom wants me to sell it at the flea market, but flea markets are gross!” she exclaimed. All the girls were looking around, presumably measuring each other’s bodies to see who would fit the jacket the best. Then suddenly, my Friend gasped.
“Oh my god, YOU!! This is the perfect size for you!” she screamed while pointing at me. I was dumbfounded, absolutely blown away. She must have meant someone else.
“…you’re not talking to me, are you?” I asked my Friend cautiously. She nodded violently and turned to face the other girls.
“Don’t you think this would fit her REALLY well?? Come on, guys, it’s literally her size!! She’s so tinyyyyy!!” The other girls agreed in tandem, and my Friend threw the jacket at me, taking me by surprise. She ushered me to stand up and put the jacket on. It was a mauvy green color, the shade what we here would call camouflage (because in Finland you camouflage to forests). It had lapels and huge sleeve buttons. All the girls around me gasped.
“Oh my god, girl, it looks SO GOOD ON YOU!!” my Friend screamed. I could feel my cheeks burning as I was surrounded by ten girls who were all staring at me, some of them with a smile on their lips, and some of them with a glimmer in their eyes.
My Friend let me keep the jacket. She seemed genuinely happy she got rid of the thing without having to sell it at the disgusting flea market, and now her mom wouldn’t be on her ass about it anymore. She kept reassuring me that it was all okay and that I looked way better in the jacket than she ever did. And I was over the moon. My first piece of branded clothing. And it was from my Friend. How sweet of her; thank you so much!
…
Going back to the intentions, though – you could never know with these girls. And me as a Kid, I wanted to see the good in everyone, so I trusted my Friend, I trusted her motives and intentions to be of pure nature. I truly wanted to believe that she was a good person, and that this would be the end of things for us.
I don’t think I need to spell it out, but since then, I haven’t really been able to trust anyone who I don’t already know. Gestures of kindness I only accept from those who I am certain will never have ulterior motives. Because your ability to trust in people just isn’t the same after you find out that the reason the pretty girl of the class gave you her jacket was to give the rest of the class more ammo to torment you with, all the way to following you around the town, to the very street your father used to live in, just to disturb the little amount of peace you had in your hands.
No means were off the table when it came to my Friends making sure every day of my life was filled with pain and misery – even when I was completely alone.
And now I wonder…why have I held onto that jacket through all these years.
Keeping at bay,
ichigonya