Why inconsistency makes it hard to trust
The struggle to stay rooted amid the changing seasons and cycles of life
In last week’s podcast conversation, we explored the theme of trust: what it means, why it’s particularly needed at this time of year, and how it can help us grow. We talked about trusting in the unfurling process of life, as well as in ourselves, and I (Maddy) shared that I’ve been struggling to do either these past couple of years while I’ve been navigating a time of significant change. I thought I’d write more about this today, for anyone who may be feeling the same.
First, though, a little love note to inconsistency. Its presence may have been making things hard for me lately, but, true to its contradictory nature, it’s also a core Wild Academy value. As the second of our WILD principles - alongside wholeness, love and diversity - inconsistency honours both the cyclical ebb and flow of the seasons, and the many fragmented (often conflicting) parts of the self.
It’s a word that truthfully describes the changeable landscapes of our outer and inner worlds, and we wholeheartedly believe in the power of allowing ourselves to be guided by life’s natural rhythms - the rise and fall; the push and pull - instead of striving for forced regularity. And yet…
…it’s not easy to surrender to the flux, and its unsteady ground presents a challenge when it comes to cultivating seeds of trust.
Missed last week’s podcast episode? Listen here:
Trust
In this week’s episode we chat about trust, and what we need to be able to cultivate a sense of trust in self, in others, and in our future.
My ‘flux era’ began in the autumn of 2022, when my husband of almost a decade returned home from a five-day work trip, and announced suddenly and bluntly that he had betrayed my trust while away (yes, the colleague cliché) and wanted to end our marriage. No warning, no discussion. No opportunity to repair or resolve. Brief comments in the intervening years have suggested that he had been unhappy for a long time, but he had chosen not to communicate this to me, instead maintaining the illusion that everything was fine. So whereas he had seen this coming and had time to prepare, my experience was that, in the space of five minutes, I had a partner and a best friend, and then I didn’t. I was loved, and then I wasn’t.
In the book of our shared life, those two final words - the end - had appeared out of nowhere, unexpected and uninvited. The future pages were suddenly blank, and the past pages full of question marks and crossings out; scribbled notes in the margins suggesting hidden meanings and alternative narratives. Not only was there now no plan for the chapters yet to come, but I was left wondering whether the story of the previous twelve years had even been true. No certainty ahead of me guiding me forwards, and none behind me holding me steady.
To use a different metaphor, I had felt in the relationship that we had been moving through winter for a while: we had experienced deep loss and grief, alongside other challenges, and this had made things heavy and hard. But at the same time, I had thought we were walking together towards spring - talking about starting a family; considering future visions. As humans, we expect our lives to unfold with the familiar flow of the seasons: the stagnant stuckness of hardship, the stirring and rising of hope, the grateful savouring of abundance, and the reflective release as another change arises and the cycle begins once more. I found myself being plucked out of winter - roots torn, germination incomplete - and plunged into autumn, forced to let go before I was ready. No chance to grow, or to soak up the warmth and light.
The book, the seasons… the metaphor doesn’t matter. What lies at the heart of it all is the idea of a map: a guide to follow so we know what’s coming and don’t get lost. When something unexpected happens and we find ourselves off the path in unfamiliar terrain, unable to find our way home, we lose faith - not only in the map itself, but in our own ability to read it.
And so we circle back to trust. In terms of the map, how do we trust in the process of life when it hasn’t unfolded how it was ‘supposed’ to? (When the book was cut short; when whole seasons were skipped out?) And in terms of our navigation skills, how do we trust ourselves and our judgements when we got it so ‘wrong’? (Did we misread the story? Misunderstand the seasonal cycle?) We’re left with so much doubt that nothing feels solid and it becomes impossible to anchor ourselves to anything real.
On a smaller scale, I have the same experience with my menstrual cycle. I struggle with what I’ve been coming to recognise over the past few years as potential Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder, or PMDD, which causes radical differences to my perspective and personality throughout the month. I’ve become pretty adept at masking it when necessary, but the patterns are undeniable and my closest loved ones are familiar with its ebb and flow. Of its many challenges, the thing I find most difficult is the way it makes me feel like a different person for half my cycle: like clockwork from ovulation until my period arrives, my mood sinks, my anxiety rises, and I become on-edge and overwhelmed.
During this time I second-guess everything, from my work to my relationships to my sense of self. I burn things to the ground and then, when I emerge on the other side, calmer and more hopeful, I spend the ‘good’ half of my cycle trying to re-build. I try not to make decisions when I’m in the thick of it, because I will believe something so clearly and fiercely one week, and then feel completely differently the next - to the point where I can’t connect to my previous interpretation at all. And even with a gentle reminder from myself or others that it’s most likely ‘just my hormones’ clouding my judgement, it doesn’t feel that way at the time. It feels exactly as real as I know it will once I’ve changed my mind. And so it goes, the push and pull of two realities competing to be accepted as The Truth. How do you trust yourself and your life when you always half-feel that ‘the truth’ could be a lie?
Aside from unexpected personal changes and hormonal fluctuations, there are all kinds of other ways in which life’s inconsistencies make it hard to trust. Psychologically, we’re all made up of multiple parts that compete to make their voices heard, causing chaos and conflict within our inner worlds. Health conditions can limit the faith we have in our bodies, and experiences of loss, rejection or betrayal can mean we’re always braced for change or disappointment. Next week I’ll be sharing some of the things that have helped me feel more rooted, but for now…
What do you struggle with when it comes to trusting amid the flux? Share your reflections in the comments, we’d love to welcome you into the conversation!
Wild Essence Explorations
If you’re seeking a way to cultivate a stronger sense of trust in yourself and your path through life, you might like to join us for a Wild Essence Exploration - a 90 minute guided journey with Maddy and Eleanor to help you consider who you are right now, where you’re going, and what you need to get there.
Based on your responses to an initial questionnaire, we’ll create your ‘wild essence map’ - a visual representation of your inner selfscape, featuring your symbolic season, landscape, elements and archetype, along with your key astrological signs. We’ll then explore this together in the session, helping you gain clarity around the themes and questions that feel most present at this time, before sharing our ‘rewilding compass’ framework to support your next steps.
We only offer a handful of these Explorations each season, and booking is currently open for our spring sessions in March. Find out more via the button below!