Trust vs. Mistrust

“Hang on, Sloopy
Sloopy, hang on

Hang on, Sloopy
Sloopy, hang on”

Lyrics: Wes Farrell and Bert Berns

She was always a bit of an odd child. More interested in climbing trees than playing with Barbies and exploring empty fields and abandoned places than hanging out with playmates. She looked at the world in a way that most others could not understand, noticing small details that the adults missed. She also asked probing questions that seemed to make adults uncomfortable and had a way of “knowing” things she should have no way of knowing…

The girl learned that her own company was the best company, except, for the cadre of animal companions she kept and some wild ones she befriended. One of the theories in early childhood psychology is that at a certain stage of development, children either learn that the world is basically a safe place and they tend to trust people and what they are told while others view the world as an unsafe place. It’s called “trust vs. mistrust”. It’s not that she didn’t trust anyone…it’s just that she knew there were many things being trusted that were not true or safe  and that too many people were not questioning anything. They trusted blindly…

She did not.

And it turned out to be a good thing that she felt it was necessary to maintain a certain level of vigilance because she did not feel safe trusting adults with her life or well being. She was concerned about her little brother playing alone in the bay out of sight of the adults and he DID almost drown. He would certainly have drowned had she not been watching and checking on him and if she had not dashed down the beach to pull him out of the deep water. She had hesitated for a second, looking up the hill hoping someone who could swim was within earshot (she could not swim) but seeing nobody she was driven by a deep primal urge to save him.

And she almost drowned saving him.

The adults laughed at them, only 4 and 8 years old, when they showed up shivering, dripping wet, her little brother wrapped up protectively in a striped beach towel, to blurt out, sobbing, all about the incident.

Silly kids. They always over-exaggerate.

And another time, she knew that the desert road her father was driving the truck on was dangerous. The hard packed clay was slick from a recent downpour. The narrow road switch-backed like a racing snake up the side of the steep mountainside…a drop hundreds and hundreds of feet straight down to one side. It was the kind of situation that made her hold her breath and clench her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms in sheer terror.

On one or two of the sharp curves the back tires of the truck slid around a bit…her father and mother grinned at each other. They were having fun. Her father was an expert driver so there should be nothing to worry about. But her sense of foreboding was screaming. Steep mountain roads with drop-offs sent her into a panic every time. She begged him, “slow down, be careful!” Her mother laughed.

Then it happened.

The back tires slid again and the whole rear end of the truck spun around to the edge of the cliff, one tire dangling clear off, precipitously… The adults stopped laughing. The truck was now teetering between the adjacent front tire and the unsupported back tire…just a bit. She wanted to climb over everyone to get out of the back seat but when someone moved the whole truck shifted just a bit toward the side hanging over the cliff. Hundreds of feet of a drop down to the desert floor. Rays of sun were peeking out of the clouds and the clay road was steaming and drying now. A beautiful moment before a long plunge to a horrible death, perhaps?

Seconds dragged. She felt frozen in time like a bug trapped in amber.

Her father’s level head and calmness prevailed and he instructed them to very slowly shift to the supported side of the truck and very carefully, one-by-one, with his direction, step out onto the road. She was sure that any moment the balance would shift and the vehicle would go crashing and smashing down the mountainside. But it didn’t.

Everyone got out.

While her father got to work figuring out how to free his truck from this predicament the rest of them started to walk down the mountain.

It was 4 miles back to camp…walking down that now despised snake of a road, retracing every hairpin turn, every twist. Her body felt numb and she realized she was angry. Even as the girl admired and appreciated the beauty of the view and the colors of the setting sun over the desolate desert landscape she knew and loved, she was confused and angry. How could they be so stupid and careless? Why would they take those kinds of chances with her life, her brother’s life?

She felt more cemented than ever in her resolve to remain vigilant and never to trust anyone blindly.