Giving Trust vs Earning Trust

Trust is not about the other person.

It's about trusting how you will handle whatever happens, even if they let you down.

It got me thinking...

Why is it that we treat trust like a fragile vase, something to be earned, protected, and never dropped? We hold it out cautiously, waiting for someone to prove they’re worthy of it, as if trust is a prize to be won. But what if we’ve been looking at it all wrong? What if trust isn’t about the other person at all? It’s about trusting how you will handle whatever happens, even if they let you down. It’s like walking a tightrope, not because you’re sure the net will catch you, but because you trust yourself to get back up if it doesn’t.

Take my client, Renee. She came to me after a breakup, devastated and angry. “I trusted him,” she said, “and he completely betrayed me. How am I supposed to trust anyone again?” Renee’s pain was real, but her question was the wrong one. The issue wasn’t whether she could trust someone else, it was whether she could trust herself. Could she trust herself to survive heartbreak? To set boundaries? To walk away when someone didn’t treat her the way she deserved? Trusting others starts with trusting yourself.

Science backs this up. Research on trust shows that it’s deeply tied to our sense of self-efficacy; the belief that we can handle challenges and bounce back from setbacks. When we trust ourselves, we’re more likely to take risks, form connections, and forgive mistakes. But when we don’t, we cling to control, constantly testing others to prove they won’t hurt us. And here’s the kicker: the more we demand that others “earn” our trust, the more likely we are to sabotage it. It’s like building a wall to protect yourself, only to realize you’ve trapped yourself inside.

Renee’s ex wasn’t the problem, her fear was. She was so focused on making sure no one ever hurt her again that she forgot the most important part of trust: it’s not about guarantees. It’s about resilience. It’s about knowing that even if someone breaks your trust, you’ll be okay. And maybe that’s the secret to giving trust freely: it’s not about being naive, it’s about being brave.

Think about it. When we say someone has to “earn” our trust, what we’re really saying is, “I don’t trust myself to handle it if you hurt me.” We put the burden on them to prove they’re safe, but the truth is, no one can guarantee that. People are messy, unpredictable, and flawed. They’ll make mistakes. They’ll disappoint you. They’ll let you down. But if you trust yourself, your strength, your boundaries, your ability to heal, then their actions lose their power over you. Trust becomes less about them and more about you.

It’s like lending someone your favorite book. You can’t control whether they’ll return it in perfect condition, but you can decide how you’ll feel if they don’t. Maybe you’ll be upset. Maybe you’ll never lend them another book. But you’ll survive. That’s the real gift of trust: it’s not about avoiding pain, but about knowing you can handle it.

Renee and I worked on shifting her perspective. Instead of asking, “Can I trust him?” she started asking, “Can I trust myself?” She practiced setting boundaries, speaking up when something felt off, and walking away when someone didn’t respect her. Slowly, she began to see trust not as a fragile vase, but as a muscle; something she could strengthen with practice. And as her trust in herself grew, so did her ability to trust others. Not because they were perfect, but because she didn’t need them to be.

Because here’s the thing: trust isn’t about guarantees. It’s about courage. It’s about saying, “I know you might hurt me, but I trust myself enough to take that risk.” It’s about giving trust freely, not because someone has earned it, but because you’ve earned it, for yourself.

It’s like learning to ride a bike. You don’t wait for the road to prove it’s safe or the weather to guarantee it won’t rain. You get on, knowing you might fall, but trusting that you’ll get back up. That’s what trust really is: not a promise, but a leap of faith.