OMG, yes!

I don't even struggle with this. I just consider it as the way it is. This world is not a safe world and is filled with people, who at any time or place, are capable of doing terrible things. In my book, you might be a great person, but you're still capable of acting like a monster. I think of humans as locusts. We are like a plague, destroying everything in it's wake.

I do struggle with this where my son is concerned. It's hard to have hope for your child's future when you see the world like this.

I know this is a very skewed way of seeing things. I know that my therapist will be addressing this. (She knows just how deep this belief runs in me.) I also think as death as peace. I will no longer be living in such a terrible place. It's truly amazing I'm not religious when you think about it.

I have no clue how to fix this.. but it's a biggy in my book.

bec

This week , well month I was taken advantage of by both a man and a woman....my trust in humanity is going to need a lot of work...You helped tonight Morgan!!!!!

I veer all over the place when I think of my faith in humanity. Some days, I think that everybody's out to get me and I hunker down in curmudgeonly crankiness. Other days -- like today -- I think of Einstein's pivotal question that we must answer for ourselves: "Is the universe a friendly place or not?" I think on those days, "It's friendly...enough." Every once in a while I encounter someone who I'm convinced has wings tucked under his/her clothes. My faith in humanity runs hot and cold, back and forth, several times a day. My faith in a very few special kin is a whole different matter

I'm also thinking that faith is a hot topic for people whose faith in basic sustenance and survival has been violated.

Lately I've noticed that any faith I can conjure is almost always aimed at animals, music, books, colours, and the natural principles/elements that sustain life. I've always been this way.

Robins' first April songs ... a neon sunset ... the sun at the center of blue morning glories ... the Caribbean and the Canadian Shield ... my canine friend Joni ... my cats: always, my cats...those gorgeous, thrumbling, gazing, bunting creatures ...the world as it is I have faith in.

People...I go so far, and that's it. Even with my husband, it grieves me to say. He is the most integrous person I've ever had the grace to meet, and I don't trust him. Past a point. Not even him. I wonder if I have a capacity to trust (does anyone else feel this?).

Once upon a time I trusted lavishly, like a dog. Toss me a trinket of kindness and I'm yours. That kind of trusting brought me into some miraculous embraces and into some here-and-now versions of Hell.

Trust...surrender...I think our spirits long to do this.

Once or twice in my life -- and it's always happened in an embrace -- I have felt cherished. The feeling swizzled through me and I gave in to simply being there, in the center of these soft explosions of compassion.

So there have been moments of quietude with other humans and I cling to the memory of them, knowing that trust and faith are possible here because I have experienced that depth of safety with another person.

There's nothing like it

I am so grateful for these experiences...and I remain on guard. Perhaps the faith paradox is one that we simply need to live with...

As dear old Walt Whitman wrote,

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then. I contradict myself;
I am large; I contain multitudes.

I cling to the exuberant kindness of Whitman, that gentle bower of a man:

I am larger, better than I thought. I did not know I held such goodness.

I feel faith when I read lines like that. Faith that faith continues to be possible, even when my mind is a desert and I don't give a shit.

Matthew Fox:

We do not come into life as blotches on existence. We burst into creation as original blessings.

Thank you everyone for your posts! It helps. I guess this is something I need to keep working on.

What's been helping me lately is bringing up the memory of the traumatic events that caused the change, and thinking of the person who was the aggressor. He pretended to be someone he's not when I had first met him, but now when I remember these events I remind myself of who he really is. Aggressive, manipulative, decietful, abusive to his subordinates, insecure/political, arogant, and utterly devoid of empathy for anyone. He has been identified as a psychopath by my therapist, and as "evil" and "psycho" by himself.

Then I think of people I have liked and loved who have done right by me, and their acts of affection, loyalty, and kindness. I tell myself that this person is not a psychopath, that this is a good person.

So on an emotional/relationship level, humanity is no longer painted one color but many. All different types of people with different colors and levels of good and awful. This is probably something I should have learned as a developing child, but I perhaps I blinded myself to certain things as a defense and a means to survive.