Trust

 My Apple Watch has been broken for at least a month now, and despite numerous store visits, phone calls and online chats, I have still yet to find a solution. It has been sent in to be “repaired” three times, and sent back only to work even worse each time. A phone call gave a possible solution, that I would be sent a new watch, my card would be charged, and I send the old watch back and the charge reversed. My answer to this is how can I at this point trust Apple to not at the end of the day charge me? They clearly don’t trust me to send back the broken scrap metal I now have, why would I trust them to refund my money? 

This got me thinking about trust. Obviously I do not trust Apple as a company anymore, and I will no longer be investing in their products. But who do I truly trust? My mind had trouble making a list. I’ve been screwed over in boxing and career more times than I can count. Friends always say the typical “call me if you need anything” line, but I learned that quickly meant I am being nice and will always be too busy to actual help. As a person I have always relied on routine and schedule, finding comfort in knowing where and when I have to be somewhere. Because I value that reliability so much, I try to be as reliable as possible to other people. I avoid canceling or flaking as much as I can. I want clients to know their lessons will be honored every week and planned. A sense of predictability in a world of chaos. I keep appointments with friends unless super sick, for I don’t know how much they may need that social interaction. But maybe this is something I do because I value it. And I assume everyone else does as well, but I’m projecting my values onto others. 

Do other people trust me? I do not know honestly. I want to be viewed as a trustworthy person, but maybe in a world filled with little trust in anything it is hard for anyone to put their trust in another person. I want my fighters to trust me, to trust that I would make a necessary judgement call, to protect their safety, to tell them my honest view of their skill, to give the best advice in the moment. But I know my view sometimes runs into conflict with their view. And maybe that is where trust is lost. 

Do I trust myself? I think that I have grown to trust myself. I came to realize that my instincts are probably accurate, despite the outside world telling me that I am crazy or reading into a situation. I used to believe that, but now I trust my gut, despite how crazy it may sound. Does that get in the way of me trusting other people? When I get a certain gut feeling, yes of course. But I think my lack of trust of people I barely know comes from the past, from avoiding the disappointment I would feel from loss of friendships, coaches ditching me, and coworkers shunning me from the group. That lack of trust is not instinctual, but learned, and probably wrongly placed. 

I competed numerous times without a coach. I would be matched for a boxing show and go by myself, asking another random coach to be in my corner because it was regulation. When they would give me advice in the corner, I would look through them as though they were a ghost. What motivation do they have to truly help me win? All I heard was that I was there alone, no one to cheer for me, no one to coach me. But I did have times in my competitive boxing years that I would have a coach there for me, supporting me, someone that I could trust. And I performed significantly better than without one. The feeling that I could rely on someone to push me, to protect me, and to guide me made all the difference in the world. The relationship of coach and athlete is a very intimate one, but I’ve realized in my years as a coach if my fighter does not trust me I have trouble providing the unconditional support that they need. 

With this reflection I realize something. Due to necessity I have spend many years training myself, as I have been dumped by many coaches. I value the autonomy I gained from that forced seclusion, as I had to learn and think for myself in my training. It made me a better fighter and a better coach. At the same time, toward the end of my competitive years, my self reliance became a problem for the couple of coaches that tried to guide me. I had trained by myself for such a long time on and off, I became reliant on me, and I trusted myself. Those that I asked to coach me may have pulled back the support I needed, because my self reliance was viewed as if I didn’t need their support at all. Which of course I did. 

So the question that I pose myself as a coach is where is the middle ground? How can my fighters truly trust me, but also trust themselves without cutting me out?