Opinions: Politically Correct?: Missiles and kindergarten

A five-year-old Casey Walker enjoys the sunshine outside with no thoughts of missiles.

A five-year-old Casey Walker enjoys the sunshine outside with no thoughts of missiles.

In kindergarten, I trusted that my sister would meet me after my class was dismissed and walk me down to Adventure Club, our after-school daycare. She was always there. I never had to sit alone and wait.

In elementary school, I trusted my best friend Mel to tell no one that I liked Andy, that quiet boy who wore the Scooby Doo shirt every other day, and where I hid my walkie talkie from my sister. Mel always kept my secrets safe.

In middle school, I trusted that the first boy I kissed would like me back as much as I liked him. He did.

In high school, my parents trusted me to drive my own Ford Escape down Highway 40 to Delmar to hang out with friends. I kept safe, and my Ford Escape is still in mint condition.

My whole life has been created around a warm and somewhat fuzzy center of trust. I’ve always trusted that my cats would come back home when we let them outside to roam the yard, just as I trusted that boyfriends would call me when they promised they would (though sometimes they didn’t…)

But now, I feel like this long-created system is getting a kick in the gut.

The more I know about the evolving world around me the less trust I want to give away.

I don’t know if North Korea actually has the capability for long-range missiles. And when politicans in my hometown Ellisville aren’t exactly honest and ethical my foundation of trust is threatened.

I know that people have guns that shouldn’t have guns, and nuclear weapons and things don’t always work the way they’re supposed to.

I’m scared. Who am I supposed to trust now?

I’ve been thinking about trust for most of senior year. I trust my parents and close friends, but when I’m five hours away in a different city I’ll be forced to trust people I’ve never even seen before. I don’t know if I’m ready to do that.

My sister won’t be around to walk me to my next class. Mel won’t be there to listen to my new-found secrets. Mom and Dad won’t be there to tell me to be safe every time I step out of my dorm room.

But in my months of contemplation I did realize something: my trust is rooted deep down inside  of me, not in anyone else. That’s why it’s always my gut that gets kicked when trust is broken. So, the only real way to get through college and–well– the rest of my life being able to trust other people is to trust myself first.

I have to be able to have enough trust in myself to know that I’ll be happy even if the outcome is different from what I expected it to be.

Because I’ll always be scared, but I’m the only one who can pick up the supplies and rebuild my center of trust. I’ll just know to flex my stomach muscles when I do get kicked in the gut.