Well, Actually…

Can trust be regained?

My knee-jerk answer is no.

Just—no.

Like a slammed door or a dropped vase or a delete key hit too hard. Something cracked, shattered, glitched, deleted. You don’t unshatter. You don’t uncrack. You just are now. With a line through the middle of you.

Except then my brain, that sneaky bastard, pops up like, “Wait, didn’t you trust that one person again after that thing?” and I’m like, “Shh, no, we’re being dramatic and righteous right now,” and it’s like, “Cool cool cool but remember?”

And suddenly I’ve got a slideshow of 2–17 examples of trust being duct taped back together and maybe even reinforced a little bit.

(One example includes actual duct tape. Long story. Fine, medium-length.)

So then I’m like: okay, so maybe it’s not a no.

Maybe it’s a yes-but-it-depends or a maybe-if-you-squint-and-light-a-candle-and-set-some-boundaries.

Maybe trust isn’t a switch, it’s like a weird sourdough starter—you killed it by accident but you scrape the sides of the jar and feed it and like… maybe, eventually, it bubbles again.

Not the same bubbles.

But still.

Bubbles.

The thing is, when I’m in the “no” place, the “never again, absolutely not” place, I forget how often I’ve changed my mind. Or rather, how often my mind changes me.

Like I’ll write something all definitive and raw and righteous and then—mid-sentence—the brain’s like, “well, actually,” and here comes nuance, sashaying in with receipts and context and uncomfortable truths.

Rude.

It’s like asking a question pulls a lever somewhere and suddenly the archive opens. Not before you answer the question. No. That would be too logical. Too organized. No, the brain waits.

Watches.

And the moment I put down a firm conclusion, it tosses in a counter-example like it’s auditioning for debate club.

And that’s annoying.

And kind of magical.

And maybe kind of useful?

Because the truth is, I think trust can be rebuilt. Not always. Not easily. Not with everyone. But sometimes. Enough times that I can’t say a flat no. Enough times that I know my “never” is often a “not yet.”

And maybe a “not this way.”

So maybe the better question isn’t “Can trust be regained?” but “What kind of trust is possible now?” And the answer might still be “none,” and that’s okay. But it might also be “a different kind,” or “a cautious, creaky kind,” or “only if we both put on metaphorical hard hats and go to therapy.”

But hey, that’s just what I think.

Until my brain hits me with another “well, actually.”