On trusting yourself
Recently, the idea of self-trust has been coming up in my practice. As a trauma therapist, this comes as no surprise—trauma disconnects us from ourselves and from others, and it can disconnect us from our sense of self-trust.
Conceptually, self-trust is abstract and full of curious paradoxes. There are specific reasons why this could be especially true for someone who has endured trauma. I highly recommend reading this blog post by Daniela F. Sieff to learn more. Daniela writes eloquently about why the general advice to “trust yourself” is too simplistic when it comes to trauma. She says that we must undertake the process of really getting to know ourselves to begin to discern what we can trust and what we can’t:
“When we realise that we cannot trust our inner world, we are laying the foundations for self-trust. This is not just because we are seeing ourselves more clearly; it is also because the qualities of honesty, vulnerability, and openness, contribute to becoming trustworthy. Knowing that we can be honest, vulnerable and open with ourselves, we automatically begin to create self-trust, even if we are unaware this is happening.”
If you had to read that a few times, you’re not alone. I found it impactful.
Daniela highlights that building self-trust is a process. In the spirit of the process, I wanted to share some of my own reflections around this topic and how I came to these thoughts in the first place. My aim here is not to unequivocally define self-trust from an expert position, but to demonstrate the ways in which I am engaging with this question through the lens of curiosity and complexity.
I try to make a habit of asking myself the same questions my clients ask me. When someone says, “how do I know if I can trust myself?” or, “what does it mean to trust myself?” my instinct is to go inward first and be sure I am willing to ask myself the same kinds of complex questions. This gives me an empathetic sense of what it might feel like to sit with such questions, and helps me begin to fish out my own responses. From there, my next step is to ask others what they think so that I can learn from people I love and respect and put a wider perspective on things.
I noticed that every single person I asked about self-trust answered that it has something to do with confidence, and something to do with decision-making. They emphasized that it’s less about doing things “right” or working towards a particular outcome, and more about doing our best with what we have and being willing to meet ourselves on the other side of a decision with a kind sense of responsibility, a willingness to grow and learn, and a touch of self-forgiveness.
In other words, self-trust does not require certainty about outcomes, it requires certainty that no matter the outcome, we’re not going to needlessly chastize ourselves. Some of the people I spoke to were gently critical of the idea of self-trust as individualistic and very Western-oriented, noting that for many people, self-trust is facilitated by a sense of spirituality or faith in something bigger than themselves, such as God or Gods, community, or universal forces.
After sitting with the responses from my friends and clarifying my own ideas a bit further, I challenged myself to come up with some statements about self-trust that I can personally stand behind. It’s worth noting that these are not true for me all the time, and it took me most of my adult life to be able to act in accordance with the things I am articulating here.
Even though self-trust has an element of individuality and is largely self-defined, I hope my personal statements help to illuminate some of the aspects of self-trust you may be thinking about or working on in your own life.
I trust myself enough that I can wade into my deepest feelings, often with the help of another person, knowing I’ll be able to make it back out again.
I trust myself enough that I can make decisions in a reasonable time frame, knowing that even if it wasn’t the “best” or “correct” choice, or the optimal outcome, I’m not going to viciously attack myself for it. I’m going to move forward having learned something new about myself and the situation.
I trust myself enough that if my body is telling me something, I’m going to listen in—and then I’ll consult my mind and heart carefully before I act on my initial instinct. This “slow thinking” builds trust as I learn to gather information from the inside and act according to my values and my most mature, developed thinking. I trust that it’s OK if this takes me longer to do than some other people.
I trust myself enough to know what matters to me and why. If someone asks me what I care about, I can tell them. If I don’t, I can consult my value system and return to the question later.
I trust myself enough to know that if my value system is challenged when I’m making a big decision, I will notice—an internal alarm will go off. I trust myself to delay a response or a decision and consult with that internal alarm at a later time if that moment is not the appropriate one to do it.
I trust myself enough to uphold boundaries around my time and energy. If I compromise on these or take myself too far away from my own lines, I trust myself enough to notice that and course correct on my own time.
I trust myself enough to know what I find funny and what I find offensive.
I trust myself enough to know when I don’t feel safe, and I am learning to discern between present dangers and historical dangers.
I trust myself enough to own up to my mistakes and shortfalls without shaming myself into oblivion.
I trust myself enough to try and stay connected to the present moment, even when I am feeling something uncomfortable. If I can’t stay present, I trust my brain was doing its best to keep me safe.
I trust myself enough to know what I like and what I don’t like. I can also trust myself enough to change my mind.
I trust myself enough to stay consistent with simple, low-effort routines for wellbeing when my overall mood trends downward.
I trust myself enough to be vulnerable with people, in the interest of emotional intimacy, once I’ve decided that it’s safe enough to do that with them.
I trust myself enough to try and differentiate between my old beliefs and the beliefs I prefer to hold dear now.
I trust myself enough to say when I need things to slow down.
I trust myself enough to embrace, rather than reject, my old selves—no matter how embarrassing or cringey those versions of me are. I trust that my past selves don’t make me lesser, they contribute to who I am now.
I trust myself to take small leaps of faith regularly—not because I can predict the outcome but because no matter the outcome, I’ll learn and ultimately build more trust in myself each time I do that.
I trust myself enough not to narrowly categorize myself. I can exist in my multitudes and my identity can be a tapestry.
I trust myself enough to put faith in what I see, notice, observe, and hear in other people—and to remain open to their perspective without letting it sway me unnecessarily.
I can trust myself enough to be in relationship with both depression and anxiety. For me they are messengers, not problems that need to be fixed.
I trust myself enough not to immediately rush to solutions that solve my discomfort, but to engage in a thinking process that creates a lasting sense of resolution and safety inside. If I rush to those solutions anyway, I trust I’ll be kind and accountable to myself afterwards.
I trust myself enough to say when I don’t know.
I trust myself enough that I don’t always have to say the “right” thing—my intentions and compassion speak too. If I mess up or I hurt someone with my words, I can acknowledge that and I can learn.
I trust myself enough to trust my gut, but also to discern between gut reactions rooted in past trauma and gut reactions that match the present situation. When I get this wrong, I gain clarity and I learn.
I trust myself enough to know when I can’t trust the way I am seeing myself. I trust that when this happens, I can understand that it’s temporary, the clouds will part, and I’ll see myself clearly and compassionately once again.
I found that the prompt “I trust myself enough to…” brought up lots of reflective material. Some of these statements are aspirational and I wish them to be true more often. I am a work in progress, after all.
