Staying When It Hurts. The True Origin of Trust
We talk a lot about trust.
How to build it. How to heal it. How to protect it.
But rarely do we talk about where trust is actually born.
For me, trust doesn’t begin in calm moments.
It begins when things get overwhelming.
One morning, after a rough night tossing and turning with a trigger, anger, and very little sleep, my body was already tight. My system was on edge. And then my son started crying.
He’s sensitive. Open. He feels everything. And when he cries, something in me cracks open too. I held him. He cried. I cried. Our breath slowed. My chest burned, then softened. It felt like something old was loosening.
As I held him, a memory surfaced.
When I was around his age, I was left with a caretaker several days a week. I don’t remember it clearly, but my body remembers the feeling. The quiet question.
Will you be there when it hurts?
Somewhere early on, my system learned a strategy.
Don’t need anyone. Be independent. Stay in control.
It kept me safe. But it also kept me alone.
That day, I stayed.
Later at the park, I misjudged things. Took his gloves off to feel the snow. It was too much. His hands burned. He screamed. And again, I stayed. I slowed down. I held him. I let the moment pass through us.
That evening, he wanted comfort I couldn’t give. The bottle didn’t work. So we met forehead to forehead. His hands on my cheeks. Breathing together. Until he softened.
My mind tried to pull me away. The to-do list. The next task.
But nothing felt more important than staying.
And that’s when it landed for me.
Trust isn’t learned when everything is okay.
Trust is learned when someone stays with us in the moments we want to escape.
This is the same place I meet people in my work.
Not to fix. Not to rush.
But to stay connected when things get uncomfortable.
When someone is met like that, something softens.
Breath returns. Guards drop.
And trust grows, quietly, on its own.
That’s how trust is built.
In the body.
In the hurt.
In the staying.
And I choose to stay.