Building a Trust

Building a Trust 

How do you win someone’s trust, especially when you begin with two strikes against you? That’s the position that I put Bill Wynchuck in in Baggage burdens. He would like to befriend Jill Kreshky, but he doesn’t know the challenge he has embarked on. He’s behind the eight ball because he is a man. The abusive treatment that Jill received at the hands of her alcoholic father and the broken promise from Dave, Jill’s kind-of-boyfriend, means men’s motivations are suspect. 

Accepting a person even when you disagree with some of their actions is a good first step. That strategy gives Bill a half-opened door. Jill is at least willing to talk with him and discover he isn’t too bad. That doesn’t mean she willing go out of her way to meet with him. Valuing her as a person who has good ideas helps to strengthen their bond.

Their relationship grows a bit closer when Jill realizes that she is alone, an unwelcome circumstance. Luck, you might think is another ingredient for developing a trust connection. You might be right or you could look at it as one who is willing to wait patiently until the person you want to know better is ready to talk with you. Risky. That opportunity may never come. True. That means one must be very patient and even optimistic.

The rapport that does develop between Bill and Jill is fragile, a condition he’s not aware of. Any little thing can cause it to dissolve. In his case the destructive element isn’t even his own action. Jill’s perception is enough for Bill’s strike two. She mistakenly thinks he betrayed her. First chance she gets she ditches him, even though he has a record of kindness. You might think or feel Bill’s efforts were all for nothing.

However, by this time the foundation of being caring makes it possible for Jill to change her mind, to reach out. The trait of accepting another in spite of their odd actions means there is an element of forgiving. The factors that built an almost completely trust bond were of Bill being accepting, forgiving, patient and projecting an impression that he regarded her as an important person causes Jill to value her friendship with Bill, value it to the point of wanting to remove the dark shadow that taints their becoming even closer.

  

Bill’s Accepting, Forgiving Nature

Jill leans against the counter as if she can’t concentrate enough to keep her balance.

“And how did you treat him? Bill offered to drive you home from the hospital. And you took a cab. You let him come there for nothing.” Pointing at her mother, Amber says, “You made him look like a fool.”

“Hey! Where are you getting all this?”

“I told you Mr. Wynchuk came to Aunt Rebecca’s dinner on Friday. He was hurt. I’ve never seen him so low. He told us you left before he got there. He learned you took a cab. It’s like you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong. Uncle Thomas and Aunt Rebecca tried to lift his spirits, but they didn’t really succeed. Mom. How could you be so mean? He’s such a nice man.”

***

Knowing that Bill serves at the Wellness Center in the evening, Jill calls at lunchtime. She expects a cutting remark when Bill hears her on the line. It’s not his nature, but she feels she deserves it. She’s been home from the hospital for more than a week, and she hasn’t called him to explain her quick departure. To her surprise, she receives a casual greeting. He politely inquiries about how she is adjusting to home life. 

Jill admits she was wrong to leave the hospital instead of waiting for him. No sooner does she begin with “I wasn’t thinking clearly…” than Bill stops her. 

“No need to explain. I thought you might want some time to adjust to being home, to talk with your children.” 

Him accepting her apology surprises her. Jill is speechless. After Bill voices one of her prepared excuses, relief sweeps over her. Remembering the other reason for her phone call, Jill tells him that she and the children would like him to join them for supper next Sunday. She includes the children because she thinks that Bill might not want to come if it is only her desire. She can’t believe that Bill has no sore feelings about her deserting him. Still thinking that Bill will reject her offer, she has prepared herself to tell Amber that she tried. 

Bill accepts her invitation.

Haiku capsule:

Engaging person 

Can I be her companion?

Alluring challenge

Next Blog: 

Fighting Fire with Fire 

Shall I Quit?

Shall I quit? 

I quit.    No.     I can’t. 

Quitting is not an easy thing to do. Quitting means admitting to have lost. I don’t like to think of myself as a loser. Even worse, I don’t like the idea of others thinking I have little determination or I’m not smart enough to solve my own problems. 

The fact is no matter what I have tried I am unsuccessful. No matter who I have consulted with, success evades me. Frustration builds. It is like you are stuck in snow. Spinning your wheels gets you nowhere accept deeper in trouble. 

Once again quitting seems like the wisest choice. At least there will be some peace. Not complete peace, but more peace, a state of mind better than the present one. Living with the reality that you aren’t in control of your own life is a bitter pill to swallow, but what is harder is facing others who know that too. The only additional solution is to remove yourself from your friends and/or family. 

This is situation faced by Jill when she chooses to run away from home. This is the circumstances faced by Joseph when he decides his marriage is over. Because the decision is so painful to make, there is nochance of reconsidering.Once done, it’s done. These are the stories of Jill and Joseph in Baggage burdens. The missing stories is the grief suffered by those who have been left hanging. Such stories are seen in the lives of Jill’s mother and grandmother, and Joseph’s wife. They are hard stories, but there is recovery, recovery that is different and open to a better life.

Jill’s Story in Part

“Okay, Jill,” begins Robin in a low voice. “Now tell me everything that happened at home.” She leans over the little table to catch every word.

Jill looks around to see if it’s safe to reveal her burden. 

“Between the two of us?”

Robin raises her hand as if she’s swearing an oath in court. “Promise.”

“It’s my father. I can’t stay in the same house with him anymore. I have to leave. But I really don’t want to get into any details.” 

Reaching across the table and holding Jill’s hand, Robin persists. “Did he hit you?” 

Jill is silent. 

“Once you were absent for three weeks. I didn’t call you. I should have. When you came back, you avoided your friends. You even avoided me. I felt like you didn’t want me for a friend, because I wasn’t there for you. I don’t want that to happen again. I’d like to respect your privacy, but this sounds too serious. Now come on, fess up.” 

Jill’s eyes water. She looks down and tries to muffle her crying. Within seconds, Robin is out of her chair and sliding beside her friend. She lightly wraps her arm around Jill’s shoulders and draws her close. Jill momentarily tenses. 

“Did you call the police?”

Jill pauses. “Last night, he was so mean. You can’t call the police for that.” Jill considers what to tell her friend.

“Jill?”

Jill nods. “Before. We called a couple of months ago,” she whispers. Jill wipes the tears away with tissue that Robin pulls out of her little clutch purse. 

“And?”

Still afraid her voice is going to break into a more audible cry, she shakes her head. “It did no good.” 

“What happened last night?” 

Feeling uncomfortable with Robin’s persistence, Jill edges away slightly. How can I tell Robin my father beats my mother because of me? How can I tell her I’m the reason my mother doesn’t like me? She shakes her head.

“Jill, there are counselors at school, at church, in …” 

Robin cuts off her words when Jill takes a huge breath. Before Jill can burst out crying, Robin sits back. Jill relaxes a little. In a slow, deliberate voice just loud enough for Robin to hear, Jill says, “I’m not going back … ever.”

Haiku capsule:

No more. I give up. 

Loser label forces rethink 

No easy option 

Next Blog: 

Building a Trust 

The Spark

The Spark

Think of starting a camp fire without the help of matches. You’ve gathered a heap of dry grass and leaves and some twigs. All that is needed from a flint is a spark or two and a flame will grow into a warm comforting fire. Add more small sticks, then branches, and later a few logs to the fire. After a short time stand back and admire leaping flames. All that beauty, that light, that heat, that energy just from a spark or two. 

Such is the genesis for a story or a novel. The spark starts with observing a person’s unexpected actions or words. Your empathy, respect or appreciation for the person is the receptive material that the spark lands on. Ready for more beauty? Add a dash of curiosity, of wander. Think you might have a bit of an understanding of the person? Attempt to predict their next actions or words. 

Success? Try again. This is like adding logs to the fire. Success this time? Now you’re ready to experience the person’s inner beauty. Engage them in a conversation. Compliment them on their actions or ideas. Or question the reasons for their choices. Or discuss alternate possibilities. Accept, enjoy, experience the inner feelings and logic of their minds like you would admire the leaping flames in the fire. 

Consider a hockey player as the object of your fascination.  Note how he/she out maneuvers a defender, their speed, courage or daring. During a break imagine the conversation and the joy that you might experience with the player. Now you have a beautiful story to share.

This is the process that I experienced that lead me to write Baggage burdens. One particularly revealing conversation lead me to begin to understand how at one time the person I call Jill could be a charming friendly person and then in another just the opposite. The revelation was overwhelming and lead to conversations with other members of the family and friends. The result––an understanding of why in the presence of bearded men, any drinking or smoking she became reserved and distant. It opened the door to an appreciation of the challenging struggle that she was involved with and her inner strength. 

 What was the spark, that initial engaging revelation? In part that is shown in a conversation that she had with her husband early in their marriage.

Jill’s Revelation

I thought I should share something with you first.” Jill remains at the kitchen table. 

“About?” asks Joseph as he sits down next to her.

“You once asked me about my family. I think it’s important I tell you some things now. I hope you don’t hate me for keeping it to myself for so long.” Jill’s earlier worried tone has become serious.

“Before you start, I want you to know, whatever happened when you were younger won’t change how I feel about you. I love you.” He holds each of her hands and prepares to read her body language.

“Thanks.” 

His smile makes her feel a little more comfortable. 

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to blurt it out.” She pauses, determined to make her confession without crying. “I ran away from home. My father is an alcoholic. He often flew into rages, hitting both me and my mother.” 

She starts to cry. Joseph shifts around and draws her closer. He holds her, waiting as she regains control. 

“You see,” she starts as she sits up again and looks into Joseph’s eyes, “that’s one of the reasons I’m so comfortable with you. You don’t drink. You don’t even like it.”

“Sounds like we’re a perfect match. Nothing to worry about.” Joseph hugs her. “I love you, Jill.”

It takes longer this time for Jill to calm down. Then she straightens up and wipes her eyes. 

“Remember you asked how our first night was, our night at the hotel?” 

Joseph nods. 

“You were surprised when I said very good.” 

He nods again. 

“It was excellent, until the end when you went wild. Your strength and energy overwhelmed me. I sensed you lost control. I had no control over you.”She emphasizes the I. Being out of control frightens me. That’s the way my father was, out of control. My mother had no control over him. He had no control over himself. It’s that wild, uncontrolled feeling that splashed cold water on our wonderful experience.” 

Haiku capsule:

Happy-go-lucky

Distant and reserved today 

Really, who are you? 

Next Blog: 

Shall I quit? 

DRY DRUNK

DryDrunk

A dry drunk is a person who has quit drinking usually after being confronted by family, friends and possibly employer. This intervention is presented as a caring action by those who are close to the person who are concerned about the alcoholic’s harmful behaviors. The group’s insistence that the drinking must stop immediately often leaves the addict with the impression that there is little choice. 

The description “little choice” should ring alert bells––simmering resentment. Fault finding and angry outbursts still fire out at those close to the drinker. The family’s impression is little progress has been made, but the drinker now says that he or she is trying. What more do you want? A new hell exists. The addict still wants to drink but can’t; the family endures continual abuse without the option of questioning the disturbing behaviors.  What can be done?

This is Jill’s situation in my novel Baggage burdens. While she is not an alcoholic, she is the daughter of one, the adolescent daughter who had to run away from home to protect herself. In her, resentment simmers. Now it’s aimed at those who show similar traits as her father. That means men, particularly if they have a beard, smoke, and or drink alcohol, are suspect. 

A suspect’s indiscretion can’t be seen as an honest mistake coming from a logical reason. They are seen as untrustworthy, someone to be feared and if possible avoided. Her actions, like those of a dry drunk, leave her in undesirable situations. Those close to her are often hurt. What can be done?

The answer for both is seemingly impossible––admit that you are not in control.  The need to trust others must come freely from the dry drunk, the first step in recovery. This Jill does. It is not with her husband or her employer who she is close to, but with one who she suspects betrayed her. What a courageous, or was it a desperate move? 

  

A peek into Jill’s life 

“Well, tell me, how do those two fellows stack up—you know, Joseph and Ben?” Mary can’t wait for Jill’s assessment.

 “As for Ben, well, he’s a lot of fun to be with. He’s easygoing and kind. He comes with a wonderful extended family. I really like that.” 

Mary smiles, as Jill expects she would. Jill reflects her employer’s response. Do I tell her my real concern about Ben?

From overhearing other customers’ conversations, Jill knows that Ben consumes alcohol when he isn’t in her presence. The stories indicate Ben drinks responsibly. Still, Jill remembers how her father’s early responsible social drinking fooled her mother. I don’t intend to make the same mistake. At least Joseph doesn’t drink.

After Jill’s Marriage

“I just have to ask you, how’s Ben?” asks Jill. 

“Okay now. You know his mother kept pushing Ben to propose to you, but he didn’t. I heard later she really lectured Ben; said he deserved to lose you; argued he took you for granted.”

“Ow! What did Ben say?”

“Just that that was the arrangement you two wanted.” 

“Ben was right. At the time, that’s all I wanted.” 

“When Ann called him a fool, he left, slamming the door. That’s when he began a two-day drinking binge.”

He was susceptible to getting drunk. I always thought so. Like my father. 

“Is he all right now?”

“Last I heard he’s sober.”

Haiku capsule:

Forced change breeds distrust.

Results are blame and anger

A dry drunk’s torment

Next Blog: 

A Biting Reality