In Trust We Begin: How Trust Transforms Loneliness Into Connection

When I started to get better, I thought the hardest thing would be rebuilding my life. But it wasn’t. It was rebuilding trust.

Trust in myself, for one. That I could follow through on what I said I wanted. That I was the kind of person who could be present for others. That I could be safe with myself. But also trust in others — to not hurt me, to not disappear, to care, without an agenda.

And like a lot of people in the queer community, I’d learned early that trust could be dangerous. Maybe it was the bullies at school who waited for you to let your guard down. Maybe it was the adult who told you to tone it down. Or the friend who got weird when you came out. Maybe it was years of being treated as different, or less than, or just not really seen. You learn to be cautious. You learn to perform safety by keeping others at arm’s length. Loneliness, ironically, can start to feel like control.

But loneliness isn't sustainable. We all know that now. Research links chronic loneliness to everything from heart disease to cognitive decline. But one of the most overlooked solutions to loneliness isn't joining a group or downloading another app. It's trust.

The Trust-Loneliness Connection

As Hilde Østby writes in So Lonely, one of the strongest predictors of loneliness isn't how many people you know — it's how much you trust others. Countries with high institutional trust often report lower loneliness rates. But where corruption is rampant, or where people feel like they have to fend for themselves, loneliness spikes. Trust isn't just a feeling; it's a social glue.

And it’s fragile. The psychologist Peder Kjøs calls it "epistemic trust" — a basic willingness to believe that the world is good and that people can be relied on. If you’ve had that broken early in life, learning to trust again is an uphill climb. And yet, without it, genuine connection is almost impossible.

This plays out in the queer community all the time. People ghost each other, keep things casual, or self-isolate before they can be rejected. Dating apps amplify this: performative, transactional, disposable. A swipe is not a foundation. Without trust, intimacy can't grow.

Rebuilding Trust (and Relationships)

So how do you start to trust again? Slowly. Intentionally. And by practising three deceptively simple things:

1. Curiosity over judgment.
Arthur C. Brooks writes about the practice of saying, "I might be wrong." This isn’t weakness; it’s wisdom. When we enter interactions assuming we already know who someone is or what they think, we shut the door on trust. Curiosity reopens it.

2. Repetition and reliability.
Trust is built in small, repeated actions. Replying when you say you will. Showing up when it's easier not to. Letting others see your real self, bit by bit. These things seem minor, but they compound. As Esther Perel says, trust isn't built in grand gestures, but in a "series of small moments."

3. Practising self-trust.
You can’t expect to trust others if you don’t trust yourself. That means setting boundaries you actually keep. Honouring your values. Not abandoning your needs just to be liked. The more you show up for yourself, the easier it becomes to believe that others might, too.

Why Trust Is the Real Flex

In a world of curated chaos, radical trust is almost rebellious. It says: I believe we can do more than compete. I believe we can belong to each other. Not blindly, but bravely. Not perfectly, but purposefully.

One of the most surprising things I've found in building Get Out is how hungry people are to be trusted. To be counted on. To be given a chance to show up. People aren't perfect, but most are better than we fear. And trust, like a muscle, gets stronger the more you use it.

So if you're feeling disconnected, start small. Call someone, even if it's been ages. Say yes to something, even if you're scared. Let someone in a little more than is comfortable. And if you're trying to build a new kind of community — one where trust is the foundation, not the afterthought — keep going. You're not alone.

You're just rebuilding the bridge. And that starts with trust.