01 My Journey – Step 4
I’m doing really well (self-confidence)
I remember the first day at the new school.
I didn’t know anyone. I sat down at the end of a group of desks. Somebody pushed his ruler across to me without a word – I had forgotten mine. I looked at him. He shrugged. I smiled.
That was the beginning of a ten-year friendship.
Trust begins small. Always. A ruler. A secret that is kept. A promise that is honoured. A moment where somebody is there – although they don’t have to be.
And it can end just as small. A sentence at the wrong time. A commitment that isn’t kept. A look that gives away that you’re not safe after all.
Trust is so fragile precisely because it is dangerous.
When I trust somebody, I make myself vulnerable. I place something that matters to me in their hands. My secret. My weakness. My heart. And they could use it against me.
That is not paranoia. That is biology. Our brain scans permanently – every room, every face, every tone of voice. It looks for signs: is this person safe? Can I rely on them? What happens if I’m wrong?
In the past that was vital for survival. Sometimes it still is today.
That’s why I start here with trust in others. Not because other people are more important. But because that is where I can best observe what trust really consists of. What builds it. What destroys it. What it needs in order to grow.
Once I have understood that – I apply the same knowledge to myself. Because self-confidence works by the same rules.
I have to be just as reliable, honest and generous with myself as I am with someone I really trust.
Trust in others – the seven building blocks
Trust is not a feeling. It is a process. One small step at a time, with small gestures, actions, moments. And it has to be looked after.
I now break this process down into its parts. Seven building blocks. Every single one counts.
1. Reliability
I can rely on you. When you take on a task, you get it done. Not just once. Every time.
Even a single slip leaves a crack. Not necessarily a break – but a crack. And cracks that aren’t filled get bigger.
2. Boundaries
Clear boundaries are the foundation of every real connection. Not walls. Foundations.
I know my boundaries. I respect them. And I respect yours. No “Come on, do it for me.” No “I’m only doing this because I can’t say no to you.”
Anyone who doesn’t respect my boundaries is not someone I can rely on. And neither is anyone who doesn’t know their own boundaries.
3. Responsibility
When I make a mistake, I own it. No excuses. No blaming. No hiding.
And now comes the decisive part: when you make a mistake – I give you the opportunity to own it. I accept your apology. I let you make it right.
Responsibility has nothing to do with guilt. Guilt presupposes that somebody acted maliciously. In ordinary life we don’t do that. So I delete blame from my vocabulary – and replace it with responsibility.
4. Discretion
What we tell each other stays between us.
Many people believe that building trust means lowering your voice and sharing other people’s secrets. As if gossiping together welds you together. With me it has the opposite effect. Anyone who doesn’t protect other people’s secrets won’t protect mine either.
I avoid the rumour mill. Not out of prudishness. Out of respect.
5. Sincerity
You recognise sincere people by three things.
They put moral courage above convenience – and help, even when it’s inconvenient. They do the right thing, even when it isn’t the easiest. And they live their values – they don’t just talk about them.
6. Helpfulness
I’m allowed to be weak. I’m allowed to fall apart, cry, rant, be afraid. You don’t look away. You can take it. And I do the same for you.
But there is something else. Real trust only comes about when I also give you the chance to help me. When I don’t hide away when I’m not doing well. When I accept help – gratefully, without a guilty conscience.
People like to help. So I do them the favour.
7. Generosity
My partner looks at me over breakfast and says: “You look tired.”
My inner child hears: you look awful. You’re not attractive. I don’t find you appealing any more.
I go quiet. Or I shoot back: “So do you.”
When all she wanted to know was whether I might have slept badly. Whether I’m okay. Whether she can do something for me.
I practise assuming the best. Innocent until proven guilty – and most of the time he is. And if I really want to be sure, I ask. “How do you mean that?” A two-second question. Clarity that heals.
Trust is made up of these seven building blocks. Now I know what to pay attention to – when I confide in somebody, and when I want others to trust me. And I know exactly where to look when something isn’t right.
When trust breaks
I want the ground to swallow me up. I told Renate something that is nobody else’s business. I thought I could trust her.
Then, through the grapevine, I found out that she had passed it on. Several people around me now know about it. I’m embarrassed. I feel exposed.
That is hard.
I feel small. Helpless. Powerless. On top of that comes the anger at Renate – and the anger at myself, for misjudging her. Then the fear: what do they all think of me now? Then the sadness. About the friendship that is cracking. About myself.
I can’t trust myself.
Now I breathe. And I look more closely.
Renate is actually reliable. She respects boundaries. She likes to help and also asks me for help. She always thinks the best of others. Her weakness: a loose tongue. And when a drop of prosecco is involved, she no longer notices everything she is blurting out.
The next day she calls me. Inconsolable. She wants to make it right. She wants to admit her mistake to our friends.
Knowing the seven building blocks I don’t have to end the friendship with Renate. I can differentiate. Renate has a weakness – at building block four. The rest is fine.
In future I can simply be careful not to tell her things that aren’t meant for others. And I can look at my own part in it too: after all, she also told me one or two juicy details about Frank. I might have known.
But maybe Renate is simply an unreliable windbag you keep at arm’s length. In future I’ll notice that before I pass on my secrets.
I will keep meeting people who aren’t right for me. That is completely fine. I can’t love everyone. And not everyone can love me.
The seven building blocks help me to look closely. Not to judge in sweeping terms. Not to trust blindly. But with discernment – and therefore more safely.
The missed opportunity
There is another way of damaging trust. One that most people don’t have on their radar.
Not betrayal. Not lies. But the moment when I had the chance to strengthen somebody – and didn’t do it.
I had locked myself out of my flat. Just quickly taking the rubbish down – and there I was in winter without a jacket, in tracksuit bottoms, in front of a locked door.
Luckily I had my phone with me. A friend had my spare key. Five minutes away by car.
I called him. He was at home, in the middle of cooking with the children. “I can’t get away right now – but you’re welcome to come and pick the key up.”
Half an hour there. Half an hour back. On foot. In the frost.
In the meantime I got annoyed. It would have been so easy – children into the car, ten minutes, back home again. He didn’t take that chance.
But then – looking at it honestly: I could have asked. Why he couldn’t drive over quickly. Maybe there was a reason I didn’t know about. Maybe not.
If a flimsy excuse comes back – then that’s that. My trust takes a knock. Not because he did something bad. But because he didn’t take a chance.
Trust doesn’t only grow through grand gestures. It grows through the small moments where somebody is there – although they didn’t have to be. And it fades through the moments where somebody isn’t there – although they could easily have been.
I pay attention to these moments. On both sides.
Trust in myself
(self-confidence)
And now comes the decisive step. I can’t force anyone to trust me. But I can do something that changes everything: trust myself.
Because only when I trust myself – will others do so too.
The seven building blocks work by the same rules. Only now I’m not observing the other person. I’m observing myself.
1. Reliability – Can I rely on myself? Do I keep my promises – including the ones I only made to myself?
2. Boundaries – Do I notice my boundaries? Can I handle them flexibly – and defend them when necessary?
3. Responsibility – Do I stand by what I do? Even when I make a mistake?
4. Discretion – Do I handle what others confide in me with care? And what I put out into the world about myself?
5. Sincerity – Do I live my values – or do I only talk about them?
6. Helpfulness – Do I notice my own needs? Do I take care of myself?
7. Generosity – Am I gentle with myself? Do I assume the best about myself too? Do I talk to myself the way I talk to my best friend?
This is what my DoD says:
I’m self-employed. I resolved not to take on any jobs for the next four weeks that I can’t handle routinely. I want a little time for myself every day. For my wellbeing. For my health.
Today a new client called. Interesting project. Unclear workload. Not a routine job.
I said yes.
Even as I’m hanging up, I know it. I ignored my own boundary. Again. Other people are more important than me. I can’t rely on myself.
I breathe. And I look more closely.
I took on too much. I’m not there yet. So I make the task smaller. Next time I’ll at least negotiate the time frame. And if I manage that – I’ll also manage to postpone a job. Or to turn one down.
Step by step. At my own pace.
Self-confidence can only be built by me. Nobody can help me with that. But my DoD shows me exactly where I may still grow. Which of the seven building blocks is still wobbling. And where I have already become more stable than I thought.
I am worth it. I am right as I am. I’m doing really well.
I arranged to meet a friend this evening. By the afternoon I notice that I’m dog-tired and would rather stay at home. I don’t cancel. I don’t want to disappoint him. I drag myself there – and I’m not really present all evening.
Building block two. Boundaries. I didn’t respect my own.
And I look even more closely. First there was the feeling – the tiredness. Then my brain’s verdict came straight after: I can’t cancel. I mustn’t disappoint my friend. And in the end the quiet disappointment in myself: I can’t rely on myself.
And then I take another step back: why was I actually so tired? Had I already ignored my boundary before that – and the tiredness is only the last symptom? What drained me so much that I had no energy left by the afternoon?
The DoD doesn’t only show me the moment. It shows me the pattern behind it. I’m tired of constantly going beyond my boundaries. That makes you tired.
Not the one evening. Not the one cancellation. But the pattern behind it. The DoD makes it visible. And that is the first step towards change.
Trust in others grows when I am reliable, respect boundaries, take responsibility, keep secrets, am sincere, give and accept help – and assume the best when in doubt.
Trust in myself grows in exactly the same way. With the same building blocks. Only now I become my own most reliable friend.
I don’t wait for somebody to tell me that I’m good enough. I build the foundation myself. Stone by stone. Day by day.
I’m doing really well.