Trust is a choice, not a feeling.

“You have to make a decision to take a leap of faith and trust him, or don’t, it’s your decision,” my best friend said to me the other day. I haven’t thought about it like that, ever—that trust is a choice, a state of mind. I always thought trust was a thing, something gained or lost, earned or destroyed, influenced by the actions of another. I assumed my ability to trust someone else was in their control, but trust really has nothing to do with the other person. The trust I have for someone else is determined by how much I trust myself, and hold myself accountable for decisions I make. This spring, I began reconciling with the man I love. Our relationship ended abruptly. It was devastating. A nightmare, really. I had no choice but to confront what happened and live my life again, without him. Things were said, things were done, on both of our parts. I had to learn how to forgive him and myself without conversation or contact. Over the coming months, I did forgive, and as I did, my shattered heart healed. I started trusting again—myself, that is. Wonderful things have happened over the past year. I traveled, went back to school, dated other people, but something was missing—him. I missed him in the way a rainforest misses rain, or winter misses snow. We found our way back to one another. We reconnected. We apologized. What we endured previously did not alter the fact that the love we share between us is mutual and unshakeable, except for one undeniable issue—I didn’t know if I could trust him again. I believe it is possible to love someone and not trust them. Love isn’t dependent on trust, and trust isn’t dependent on love, but trust has everything to do with a relationship. A relationship is dependent on trust. If I desire to have a relationship with the person I love, then yes, I must trust him. Trust is the mortar of connection, and the creator of the ability for two people to share a life together, harmoniously. Without trust, a healthy relationship is impossible. I’ve noticed some old patterns of mine resurfacing as he and I begin to rebuild. The other day, he said to me,“You want to trust me, you want to trust me more than anything, but I’ve done things to cause that trust to waiver. Now, you are trying to determine how to do it, how to believe me, again.” That is exactly my conundrum—how do I trust him again? This is what inspired the conversation I had with my friend, in which she reminded me of the power I have in this situation, in every situation. How do I do it? I just do it. Everything we do in life is done by making a decision, yes or no—trust is no different. I can trust him, if I choose to, or I can choose not to trust him—it’s solely my decision, a daily decision. Every day, I wake up, you wake up, we wake up, and we decide what to do, what to think, what to feel, who to spend our time with and who not to. We make choices of what to believe, and what not to believe. We decide who to trust, and who not to trust. Make a choice, and then, enter love. Love enters because love is faith. Love is hopeful. Love wants to believe. I love him so very much. I want to be a part of his every day and him, a part of mine. It is because of the faith I have in myself, the trust I have in my decisions, that I am able to take a leap of faith and trust. It will be a conscious choice I make every single day. Maybe it will change, but I trust this is the decision my heart needs and wants, now. I choose to trust. I choose to love. I choose to believe in him, and most importantly, I choose to believe in myself.