Trust, Part III, The Husband Speaks or Nibbles on Your Toes

As I have mentioned, my husband plays an important part in my attempt to understand what is going on within myself and also at work. This issue of trust comes up and I venture to comment -- I can’t even imagine what this guy might think I’ll do with his information; why he has so much trouble trusting me.

I suppose blog his secrets is a possibility. But please note: I am not blogging secrets or identifying information. The hell of it is, what I describe is not happening with just one person. These are patterns, and could apply to many people floating around in the penal system. Everyone might think it refers to him, but it refers to so many.

So, I floated this latest question out to him. I think perhaps his head is exploding, certainly spittle is flying from his lips and he’s gesticulating wildly (for him). Guess I hit a nerve. Guess he thinks I’m one of the least trusting people on the planet, and my comment is wildly ridiculous and lacking insight and empathy, and other important components. Hmm.

“There are all kinds of things that are dangerous that go through a person’s brain. YOU have a pretty serious partition.

“It’s a question of where your partition is. It can go from the regular scary shit in your frontal consciousness to as deep as your lizard brain where you don’t even want to know what lives there. It could be your monkey brain where death, violence and the fear of death live.

“When you look into the abyss the abyss looks back at you.

“I suspect with some of these guys, their frontal consciousness is pretty small. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect most of them commit crimes by ignoring their frontal lobes; they disregard messages that tell them they are doing something stupid, dangerous, and even lethal. Lalalalalalalala comes across, instead.”

I wonder if I am seeing the lalalala. Really, it seems more like screaming from the outside.

He continues, “Learning to look through the partition is the problem. Think of it as swimming in a lake, and all you do is hang near the shore. Maybe you swim in a pond or a lake, or the ocean. It is scary to dive down, so you try to keep safe and don’t do it.”

I believe it is a false safety. You can even get out of the frigging lake if you want, hang out on a dock or an island. But everything you need to grow and understand is in the lake. When you need something, you must step in. If the depths are unexplored, the possibility that something will swim up and grab your ankle is huge.

Maybe what I see is somebody who feels the nibbles on his toes, the bulk of something huge and scary brushing up against you?