Trust is a cat and mouse game of peek-a-boo. It’s an acrobatic leap into the air. And the unknown, we fling ourselves. A catch me if you can, can you?
Some counseling sessions seem to twist the trust volume up to an ear-shielding pitch. And as a counselor, I get caught in its losing battles at times.
And so I search. Where did you go? Not right now, ok, I’ll be over here.
You can trust me, I squeak. But they can’t – not yet.
They don’t know if they can. And however much I wish they did, I know I can’t expect them to. So we’ll take it slow, with no expectations. The way that others in the past have done for me.
We get to know each another.
Maybe it’s something we can’t put our fingers on, Braille that’s unable to be read. And we play Ring Around The Rosie and dizzy ourselves from circling round.
And we all fall down.
I feel a bit like I’m falling down, a bit vulnerable. Like the baby chick that relies on an incubator. Don’t put me outside, please. Not tonight.
I need a comfy nest and a head pet and restful sleep.