Trust is one of the foundations of society. Our way of life runs on trust. When I buy groceries, I trust that the food inside the boxes is what it says it is. I trust that my car is going to run on the petrol I buy. I trust that others are going to follow the road rules. I trust that I’m going to get paid for the work that I do. I trust that no-one is going to steal my lunch from the fridge. I trust my partner will not laugh at me when I share a deep feeling. It’s hard to define trust; it’s easier to know when it’s lost. We trust others when we want to be part of a group or have a relationship. We will do whatever it takes to keep that relationship going. We are vulnerable, yet we feel safe in the knowledge that someone has our back. When people we trust break the trust we place in them, we withdraw. We don’t want to be sympathetic to them or their cause. If you have been badly hurt in the past, you are likely to be on the lookout for broken trust, and will probably only give the people in your life one chance. Or, you keep on trusting them long after you realise that they are hurting you by breaking that trust, breaking the strands that bind you together. It is easy to hide the broken strands. We can go through the motions, but sooner or later lost trust will show up in a relationship.

How do we build trust? By doing what we said we would do. By being consistent. By backing up our words with actions.

This is my story.

 If Mum said “I love you” to me when she was drunk, she didn’t mean it. It was the beer talking. She never said it when she was sober. Her actions didn’t show it, and she didn’t know anything about me as I was growing up. She had her own problems. I couldn’t trust anyone. I couldn’t depend on anyone. They weren’t there for me; I could only depend on myself. No-one told me anything. I didn’t feel safe a lot of the time, and I was alone a lot of the time. I needed Mum to pay attention to me, to listen to me and show that she cared. Instead, if I wanted her I could find her in the kitchen or garage with her bottle and her friends. If we had any celebrations, the bottle was the guest of honour. 

I remember going to the beach one time as a child. It was a happy day; we played by the water all day while the adults partied. No-one checked on us, and the worst thing happened. My sister, aged three, got swept out by a big wave. I didn’t know what to do, there was no-one to help. I swam out and grabbed her and pulled her back to shore. I saved her. Looking back logically, I know it probably wasn’t that deep, but she couldn’t stand up. It was scary. We were both shaken and scared. I was five. Mum was drunk. She never knew what had happened. We didn’t tell her; it didn’t occur to us to tell her. We carried on with life as usual. Don’t speak and don’t trust. 

I learned early on that I cannot trust anyone but myself. And sometimes I can’t trust myself either.  The ‘don’t trust’ rule also included other unspoken rules. “Don’t make friends outside the family”. “Nothing is wrong, everything is fine”. “Do as I say, not as I do”. “You must not be angry or sad”, which sounded like “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about”. People with dependencies manipulate. They need their fix to survive and will do whatever it takes. They are adept at twisting situations to their own benefit wherever possible. They lie, use anger, guilt, urgency, blame and self-pity. They need to keep the status quo so they can keep using or drinking or shopping or gambling. This is the norm of someone in the death grip of substance or other compulsive dependency: denial, lying, and keeping secrets. By definition, this behaviour causes mistrust. Is it any wonder that families of those with dependencies have a problem with trust? Broken promises of the past tell us that trusting someone will backfire on us sooner or later.

Another major strand of the trauma of the family with dependencies is the potent rule of “don’t speak.” This means don’t talk about the weird stuff that is happening in the family. It also means don’t talk about yourself and what is happening to you. Don’t ask for help. Don’t ask for what you need. You must not let anyone know about the state of the house. This means you cannot have friends come over. You especially must not let anyone know that Mum spends most of her time in the garage getting drunk. People must have known that things at home weren’t good, but no-one talked about it. They didn’t want to butt in. 

Secrets Affect Children

Young children assume that they cause all the events around them. All small kids entertain this magical way of thinking. For example, if I am five and I wish for a pony, I will wait and wait for it to show up. Or if I wish hard enough, Mum will come and see me at the school play. When she doesn’t it’s my fault, I must not be good enough for her to care about me. My normal egocentricity leads me to assume that I cause all the problems in the family. A child that has no-one to talk to about what is happening will make up their own reasons. “If I am a good girl, Mum won’t be angry with me and drink.” This is why rules become as hard as stone, they are the way things are and always will be. As children grow, this magical way of thinking fades, and logic and cause and effect takes its place. However, the twisted logic of our early years becomes permanent and colours our way of thinking. We don’t realise it because we haven’t talked about it to anyone. Because we can’t trust anyone. The rules are clear. Don’t talk and don’t trust. And so the trauma is cemented into your life. 

There is increasing evidence that keeping family secrets can affect a child’s ability to learn. Children’s normal curiosity means that they are quick to learn. Think of all they must learn even before they get to school.  How to dress, how to eat, how to talk. How to get along with others, when to use the toilet. Children are intuitive; they are also little magnifiers. They know when their significant adult is upset. That’s when they get upset too, and ask for reassurance that everything is ok. As they get older they learn that there are two types of secrets. Secrets that you must keep and secrets others keep from you. They are quick to sense changes in tone of voice or facial expressions. They know when a secret is being kept from them. Try to go somewhere exciting with a three-year-old and try to keep it a secret! If children from a home with trauma caused by dependencies are too scared to ask about something, they learn that it’s not ok to ask questions and their curiosity plummets. They won’t wonder why stars shine at night. They won’t wonder how ants know where to go. They won’t care what happens to Johnny in the book their teacher is reading. This lack of curiosity is coupled with the stress of living in an unstable home.  Adrenaline and cortisol affects their brains and affects their schoolwork.

The rule of ‘don’t talk’ means that children become burdened with secrets that are too big for them. Drunk behaviour of Mum or Dad and parental neglect are huge secrets that children must keep. Other secrets they are not allowed to talk about are violence in the home and sexual abuse. They must be forever on their guard to keep the family’s secrets. It becomes easier to stop talking. If you don’t say anything, you can’t say the wrong thing. Protect the family. Ultimately the stress on children’s bodies takes its toll. Cortisol levels rise, which is particularly damaging in a growing child, especially if the cortisol release is long-term. The way this stress manifests can relate to a child’s role in the family. For example, the Mascot may develop eating problems; think of the ‘jolly fat person’. The Hero’s shoulders may get rounder as they take on the problems of the world. The Acting-Out Child may use chemicals to escape. The Lost Child may suffer from anxiety-related problems.