All I wanted to do today was sit in my favorite bar and write about how I don’t like pumpkin spice lattes. I wanted to write about not liking them and fall and the darkness that it brings.
I wanted to write about the changing of seasons.
But, all I can think about right now is the bridge I have in my written words.
I’ve learned a lot in my life from mentors and fatherly figures. I have nuggets and advice and wisdom that cycle through my brain.
I know beyond a shadow of doubt that I am incredibly fortunate to have people who choose to make space in their lives to speak into mine.
One of those I reference often is Andrew.
Before I met Andrew I was slightly terrified of him. For multiple reasons, but one main being I didn’t used to/still don’t sometimes, feel comfortable around men in authority.
The first time I met him, a story I’ve told many times in writing, was in a pub in Mijas, watching a World Cup game. I was alive with nerves to start my first day of class and the last thing I wanted to do was meet this man.
But my friend Tiffany made me.
And the first words Andrew ever uttered to me were “Welcome home”.
I say this because I had chosen to trust Andrew because Tiffany did. I borrowed some trust from her just to get to Spain.
Andrew has since then given me a lot of wisdom and even more so he’s given me love.
He taught me a lesson in trust that has stuck with me for a long while. Trust is a bridge. Some hold more weight. Some hold less. But they still hold something.
I had to build a lot of trust in Spain. I had to learn how to trust men in authority. I had to learn how to trust my voice and myself. I chose to trust people that I didn’t think I would and those humans have made my life more full than I could have imagined.
But, the thing about bridges is that they need maintenance.
I was having a conversation with my friend Krys in a loud, karaoke-filled, restaurant about my ability to trust people.
And I have come to realize that I’ve let my bridges get pretty threadbare.
Vulnerability and trust take more practice and maintenance than I have been giving them
I’m not saying I don’t trust people.
What I am saying is that I struggling lately to extend my ability to trust.
I am great at borrowing trust. I am capable of trusting humans because someone I trust, trusts them. Hell, the sole reason I am in Bellingham is because people I trust, trust the people here.
I think the problem is I’ve been living on borrowed trust.
I’ve been building bridges on top of other people’s already built bridges because that, my friends, is the easiest way to not get hurt. I am pretty discerning about who NOT to trust. I know when not to share.
But, that moment where I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I need to share a little more, be a little more, give a little more, I know that I am not walking on the bridge that is built.
When you are in a season of building something, be it muscle, or skills for one thing or another, you can’t just keep doing the same thing. You can’t do the same exercise for weeks on end and expect a different result.
You have to find ways to stretch yourself.
You have to push your comfort zone and create new ones along the way.
And believe me, I know it’s hard.
I’ve been in more anxiety filled conversations than I’d like to admit these days, I’ve been in situations where I push past the curl up in a ball feeling to be present.
I WANT to trust.
I want to build bridges and practice vulnerability.
I don’t like pumpkin spice lattes. That’s surprising to some. It’s surprising that I, Meg, one of the most basic white girls some people know, doesn’t like the most basic beverage of all.
And it’s surprising to some that I walk in anxiety, and a lack of vulnerability.
But, I’m working on it. Again, still, probably always.
I am not working on liking pumpkin spice lattes though.
It’s not going to happen.