With the reappearance of an old muck-friend, and dinner last night with another old friend and his fiancée, I suppose I have been inserted into the mindset of levels of trust, tiers of friendship again. Accounting has never been my strong suit, and I felt lame when I was sorting people out into tiers, but there are definitely levels of trust now, more strictly enforced than ever, and those levels make me sad. I used to be eyes-wide-open girl, trusting, palms up and hands outstretched, always bringing myself to the world with innocence. Over and over. And now?
I can’t blame this on other people, as much as the child I still am would want to. It’s not their fault I closed down; it’s mine. And I really need to stop finding it a fault in myself, and just see it for what it is: a defense mechanism, a way to protect what I’ve still got, because now I know that it’s worth protecting.
Perhaps that’s the change. I didn’t think enough of myself to protect it.
I was just so aware at dinner last night of a hundred things I couldn’t say, not because I didn’t trust my old friend, but because I barely know his fiancée (or her friend who was also dining with us). And trust comes so slowly now. I know at least one person who would be proud of that in me. I still have no idea how I feel about it. Still sad, for what exuberance has been lost.