Trust: Broken

Trust

When trust breaks, there is a breach. A gap created, and to build a bridge, the healing is not something that can be done with ease.

Take, for example, a wife who cheats on her husband. He finds out, (it’s a long-term affair), and when he discovers the years of emails between her and her lover, reality sets in as to why his life has been so frustrating over the period he sees the affair has been happening.

He confronts her, anger, frustration, tears, repentance; the scene plays out as expected.

Time goes on; it has a way of doing that. They seek to build back the lost trust.

He digs deep, struggling with the parallel emotions of love he still has for this beautiful woman to whom he has given his life, with the conflicting frustration and anger of her lies and deception for years.

She sees it as a breach, but one they must bridge together.

The problem is, the bridge is built only from one side of the chasm. The material to repair the bridge lies on the shores of the one who created the gap. All of the lumber and steel girders that will generate a trustworthy structure to bring the sides together once again in a trusting relationship; they lie on her side of the chasm.

He looks longingly across the divide, wishing he could fix things. He loves her intensely, that has never changed, but she keeps throwing material at the chasm, not intentionally doing the necessary work to see how to construct the complicated support systems entirely and the cross-bracing that will restore the trust.

She “tries.” She spends time in counseling but sees it as an option. Does she want the bridge? Does she want a relationship with someone that requires a bridge in the first place? Why not just start over? She’s beautiful, desired, has lots of options. Why go through all of this bridge building shitty work? Will it ever be fully restored?

He sits on the other side. Does he turn his back on this process? He has waited for ten years to see if she will place with care and intention the pieces of iron and wood that will show him that he can trust her again. He watches her throw little bits of timber across the gap. They tumble and fall to the raging river of emotions below.

Why wait for her any longer? Is it worth waiting to see if she will want to do the heavy lifting?

And then he watches as, instead of bringing the two sides together with heavy materials, she throws a massive bomb in the chasm.

Another affair.

Another series of lies.

The gap widens. Landslides of the remnant trust fall into the river. He can barely see the other side now.

Her voice yells across the divide. “I need you to build this with me, or it’s just not worth the effort I need to invest.”

He smiles in a sad and despondent smile. With shoulders in complete surrender to their weight, he whispers to himself: “With what?”… he looks at the broken fragments of the remaining wood that of anything resembling material with which to construct a fire let alone a bridge.

He wishes he could jump across the gap and do the work himself. He wants nothing more in life than to see the bridge fully restored, to see trust moving freely back and forth between them once again. Trying to throw his faith in their relationship across the gap, only to see it fall merely feet away from his side of the cliff, and dashed on the rocks, he finally gets to the point of complete exhaustion.

Why bother?

Why bother any more?

The gap is too insurmountable. Hope is gone. He feels that she doesn’t want it. She wants him to repair his “side” of the chasm. He has nothing with which to build.

He has nothing left.

Time to turn around and walk away?

Comments