Second Naiveté (Pt.1)

Recognizing life's rich opportunities to reclaim trust

When something needs to shift in your consciousness, life orchestrates the perfect circumstances for you to see it. If you don’t notice it the first time, life offers repeated, sometimes challenging, opportunities until you finally awaken to the part of you that needs reprogramming.

This, I believe, is life’s intelligent design.

I’ve been nomadic since September 2023. On my birthday this year, I woke up in CDMX, excited to enjoy the day ahead, but soon, little things began to irritate me. Despite my clear request, my drink wasn’t hot enough; the eggs were dripping in grease; and the girl at my favorite café would remind me (every single time) that the table I love is for four people, even when the place is nearly empty. Later, the usual masseuse was absent when I went for a massage at a spot I’d visited three times before. Instead, I got someone who clearly lacked experience. Normally, I might have let it slide, doubting my inner knowing, but this time, I spoke up immediately and asked for another person.

The day continued its little tests. I ordered an Uber to the airport and briefly entertained the thought of requesting an XL, just in case. I quickly dismissed it: I was alone, so any car should do, right? Then, the tiniest car arrived, and the driver was visibly annoyed by my luggage. Well, I was on my way to the airport, after all.

By now, you can probably sense that I was leaving CDMX feeling negative and irritated. Aware of my state, I tried to shift my perspective: I journaled, took deep, conscious breaths, and directed my thoughts toward the exciting, creative new chapter waiting for me in the US. Even though I still wrestled with worry and ruminated over every little mishap, there was hope in the simple act of moving forward.

Landing in Houston for my connection, however, turned into an airport nightmare. I don’t recall the last time I felt so stressed in an airport. My nearly two-hour transfer usually wouldn’t be an issue, but this time, massive Global Entry lines, absent TSA agents (thanks to construction), and the need to re-check my bags for an international flight set the stage for chaos. I grabbed my extra-heavy luggage and headed over to the connecting flight area. There, a bag drop guy, absorbing the frantic energy of delayed flights, bluntly told me I wasn’t going to make it. He sent me to the ticketing desk to re-tag my bag.

Something didn’t feel right. Despite his lack of help, I cut the line. The woman at the desk re-tagged my bags and handed me the little stickers I tucked into my back pocket as I sprinted back to the bag drop. Things only worsened: another staff member insisted I was missing my flight and had to drop my snowboard bag somewhere else. At that point, I’d had enough! I looked him straight in the eye and simply asked for help. He took my bag and told me to run through security. So, there I was, sprinting with two heavy shoulder bags, a winter coat, boots, and a mountain of other items to load and unload through security (remember, no TSA was available). At the scanner, the officer demanded I empty my pockets, and in the chaos, I mistakenly tossed the folded tags into the trash. I later reassured myself, thinking they should still be in the system since they’d already been printed. I finally boarded the flight, drenched, exhausted, and constantly checking my AirTags, only to discover that my bags hadn’t even made it on board.

Arriving in Denver, I filed a claim and checked into the hotel; by the time I went to bed, it was 2 a.m. What a day! I’m exhausted, but I hope my bags will return to me tomorrow.

Turns out, life didn’t get the memo!

The following morning, I opened the tracking app and saw my bags still stuck in Houston. United Airlines offered no updates beyond my filed claim, and I soon found myself on my first of five long phone calls. I was told the bags were last tracked in Houston and advised to keep checking the app. Then, a notification popped up (as if I needed more drama): my AirTags reported the bags were now in Boston. My stomach turned, and I redialed customer service.

I was on the phone for almost two days, sending emails and screenshots, pleading with anyone who could help contact Boston and locate my belongings. I was posting on social, looking up numbers of airport luggage staff, and trying every creative solution I could think of. Yet, no fiber in my body felt relaxed enough to trust that the airline staff would do their job. I couldn’t simply leave it in their hands. I was doubtful, worried, and nearly furious, certain that I shouldn’t have listened to that bag-drop guy, certain that re-tagging was a mistake, and annoyed that all I got in return was, “You have to be patient.” Instead of proactive action, they clung to outdated Houston tags, making the situation worse.

For context, since I haven’t had a permanent home in 18 months, I travel with all my favorite, most valued items. My suitcase isn’t just luggage, it’s my home. Unpacking in a new place and slipping into my favorite silk robe and slippers creates that warm sense of familiarity. Losing those items felt like losing a piece of what grounds me. Plus, I was in Colorado in January with only the clothes on my back.

That lost luggage drama (realistically not a big deal), turned out to be the culmination needed to catalyze a shift around one of the most significant themes in my life (and for many of you, I’m sure): trust and all that goes with it- relying on others, controlling, managing, manipulating, “making it happen,” “fixing,” and all the ways one will burden oneself to ensure the thing they want happens.

It wasn’t just about the airline mix-up. I first noticed trust coming up for me during my most recent relationship in 2023. And from there, I began tracking how it unraveled.

In early December, I had a brainwave scan with a company in Miami called Supermind. The company looks at the brain and shows how trauma may have impacted the nervous system. What it revealed for me, by looking at my unconscious brain frequency band, is trauma dating back to the last trimester of my mother’s pregnancy and birth. I knew from my mom that labor with me was long and challenging, but I hadn’t known about the stress in those final months. According to the scan, I experienced high levels of stress and anxiety during that period, maybe my tiny organism sensed that coming into the world, and my family was unsafe and had to learn to survive on its own. This might have been my first experience where trust was compromised.

At the Supermind office in Miami

Most of us have experienced having our trust broken. For many, it happens as early as in utero or early childhood, when still open-hearted, vulnerable, and naive. This original trust is our primal state of being (as my therapist taught me), also called First Naiveté. 

A baby enters the world with an implicit trust in caregivers and the environment, relying on them for survival. For those who experience birth trauma or early relational trauma (which is most people on this planet), this first naiveté is fractured. This is a critical formative time. In the third trimester, the fetus is already starting to develop the foundations for emotional regulation and attachment behaviors.

Whether it’s due to premature birth, early separations, or even the arrival of a sibling shifting a caregiver’s attention, these early fractures can leave us believing the world is unsafe. As a result, many of us develop protective mechanisms- withdrawal, hypervigilance, and hyper-independence to protect ourselves from further harm. Look around. Many people, especially women, have adopted these strategies: super-independent, self-reliant, and confident in handling everything alone. While these traits serve an essential purpose for survival, they can also create barriers to genuine trust, vulnerability, and connection. None of this is bad; it’s our intelligent design.

*With that, I'm not talking about being a "capable" adult in the traditional sense. I'm referring to those of us who have rarely, if ever, had the luxury of relying on someone else, always serving as the caretaker, the problem-solver, the one others depend on. And if you’re a new mama (or mama-to-be) reading this, know that fractures in connection are inevitable. Many parents experience moments when, after a rupture, their child withdraws, reaching out only to be met with distance. Instead of taking it personally or assuming that your little one is simply becoming more “independent” or a “big boy/girl,” remember that these moments are crucial for rebuilding the connection. When handled with care, these ruptures can actually strengthen bonds and deepen trust.

I’m convinced that our early connections with our caregivers shape everything that follows—our relationships, work, self-worth, and even how we handle money and social situations. In many ways, we are a product of our family and ancestral history. That's why doing the foundational inner work is so crucial. Practices like meditation, Vipassana, medicine retreats, polarity work, and even traditional therapy offer beautiful lessons and equip us with tools to manage our triggers, regulate our emotions, and communicate more clearly. But they don't address the root of the issue. None of these approaches can truly make sense until we first recognize, accept, understand, and process our childhood relational trauma. When we do, these practices could become more effective because they're now working within a more integrated and balanced system.

If you think you haven’t experienced childhood trauma, think again. I’m not necessarily talking about abuse or neglect. As Dr. Gabor Maté wisely says, “Trauma is not what happens to you; it’s what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you.” Even seemingly minor events can deeply disrupt our nervous system.

Our society often portrays birth as a painful, fear-based, clinical event, causing women to fear what should be a sacred experience. Anything you walk into holding the vibration of fear often turns out to be a stressful experience.

Imagine entering the world under fluorescent lights (harsh on the nervous systems of adults, let alone babies), surrounded by strangers, and in an environment designed for efficiency and patient rotation. I don't know about you, but that sounds stressful to me.

After the brainwave scan, I experienced a string of frustrating moments with what I consider an incompetent assistant managing my friend’s property in CDMX during our holiday with the girls. I won't get into every detail, but the constant lack of thoughtfulness and daily frustrations only reinforced a core belief: “If I need anything done right, I have to do it myself.”

I had a few options here. I could label the assistant incompetent, find solutions, and move on, or sink energy into complaining or, worse, suppress my frustration, pretending it didn’t bother me. Sure, plenty of surface-level strategies.

Or, I can go below the surface and explore what part of me attracts these situations. If it’s happening, I must be choosing it on some level. Life always mirrors our beliefs, in this case: “It’s all on me again, and well, I’m capable enough to do anything, and quite often, better than the rest.” (hello, hyper-independent, resourceful, solution-oriented child - sound familiar?)

We attract situations and people to help us see and resolve what was once fractured. Trauma fragments the coherent nature of our psyche. Our movement as a living system is always toward wholeness. Everything in life is constantly repairing and renewing. This is a fundamental part of the fabric of the universe—brokenness is always a part of the story.

Reflecting on some of my past relationships, it's no wonder I attracted men I couldn’t fundamentally trust. This isn’t just about them, though; we often couple with people who either mirror the dynamics and qualities of our caregivers or reveal the fractures that need to be mended. In other words, we keep attracting partners who would trigger unhealed parts and hopefully become powerful catalysts for growth. Eventually, we get to a place where we won’t entertain that same person or type of relationship.

It’s also true that the reality we experience mirrors the frequency we carry inside. The safer we feel within, the safer people and situations we attract. It’s always both a co-creation and a feedback loop, too. The more I trust, the more trustworthy the people around me become. When we extend trust, we often signal our belief in the other person’s capacity to be reliable, which in turn instills a sense of responsibility and encourages them to act in ways that reinforce that trust. This is why it’s important to practice trust, to trust our men, and to inspire them to deeper integrity.

As my therapist said, instead of all the nerves and exhaustion I created for myself, I could have sipped my hot cacao and let the airline do the rest. I know that on a conscious level, but when stress takes over, our nervous system takes over. That’s why doing our inner work is so crucial.

Stay tuned for Part 2, where we look into building our Second naiveté. You can subscribe to receive it directly in your inbox.

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