Trust Is Fragile – A Journey Through Loss, Truth, and Grounding- Abhisshek Om Chakravarty | Holistic Life Coach & Mindfulness Mentor

I once met a man with everything—power, position, popularity- but nothing that felt real. I won’t name him, but I will tell you his story. Not because it’s extraordinary, but because it’s universal. It’s the story of so many of us who rise fast, chase success, lose touch with ourselves, and forget the language of trust somewhere along the way.

He reached out to me one winter evening through a message of equal parts confusion and clarity. He wrote, “I don’t know who I am anymore. People say I betrayed them. I didn’t lie. I didn’t cheat. But I stopped being… honest. I stopped being me. I don’t know if this message will reach you or if you even respond to strangers. But I needed to speak. To someone who isn’t caught in my world.”

I responded, not out of obligation, but because something in his words carried a rare vulnerability. I sensed that behind the polished words of a corporate leader was a man cracking under his weight.

He had been the CEO of a successful company and built it from scratch. Turned it into a well-oiled empire. People admired his vision, feared his discipline, and respected his results. But the one thing he had taken for granted along the way was trust. Not just others’ confidence in him, but his trust in himself.

He told me, “I became so focused on being right that I forgot how to be real.”

That line stayed with me. Because I’ve seen it in so many faces—young professionals, seasoned entrepreneurs, healers and spiritual leaders. We trade honesty for efficiency. We bend truths to fit timelines. We make decisions that look good on paper but feel heavy in the soul. And each time we do, we leave a small part of our integrity behind.

He said people began drifting from him. Friends stopped calling. Employees kept their distance. And even though he was technically ‘winning’, he felt like he was living inside a glass box—seen but never touched. Respected but never trusted. He didn’t commit any crime. He didn’t abuse his power. But he started making choices misaligned with the person he once aspired to be.

Trust isn’t only broken through betrayal. Sometimes, it’s broken through silence. Through apathy. Through choosing what’s convenient over what’s right.

He had hit that point. And no one stood beside him when the scandal hit—not of his making but under his watch. The people he once mentored now looked at him with suspicion. The board that praised him moved on without him. The world that cheered for him went quiet, not out of hatred, but out of disappointment.

And that, my dear reader, is a wound that cuts deeper than anger.

He told me he spent nights staring at the city skyline, wondering what went wrong. He wasn’t greedy. He wasn’t malicious. So why did it all collapse?

I told him something I’ve said to many others who come to me in moments of crisis:

“Trust is not a business transaction. It is sacred. Once broken, even unintentionally, it takes more than time to heal. It takes truth. Deep, uncomfortable, relentless truth.”

He entered my three-month mentorship program not because he believed in healing back then but because he had no more masks to wear. Ironically, that is the best time to begin. When the masks fall, the real work starts.

We didn’t begin with affirmations or strategies. We started with silence.

In our first session, I asked him to sit for 30 minutes in complete silence—no journaling, planning, fixing, or listening. At first, he resisted. “I need to do something,” he said. I can’t just sit here.”

But that’s the illusion we all carry—that healing is about doing. It’s not. Healing is about undoing and unlearning the noise, unpacking the layers, and unmasking the self.

In the weeks that followed, we went deep into his childhood, his relationship with praise and performance, and the wounds he never acknowledged because he was too busy achieving. He cried, raged, laughed, and slowly softened.

He wrote letters. Not emails—handwritten letters—to the people he had let down. Not to ask for forgiveness. But to take responsibility. To say, “I see it now. I may not have meant harm, but I caused it. And I own that.”

Some people wrote back. Some didn’t. But every letter was a seed. A seed of honesty. A seed of humility. A seed of hope.

He started volunteering at a local shelter—not to prove anything, just to feel human again. He reconnected with old friends—not to explain himself but to listen. Most importantly, he began talking to himself differently.

He no longer said, “I was a failure.” He started saying, “I was asleep. But now, I’m awake.”

One day, he told me he was leaving the city and moving to a village where his grandparents had once lived. He was building a home with his own hands, growing food, and offering mentorship—not to climb ladders but to build bridges.

He said, “I don’t need applause anymore. I want to be someone my inner child would be proud of.”

To me, that is the essence of transformation: not changing who we are but returning to who we were before the world told us who we should be.

Today, he lives a quiet life. He still mentors. He still writes. But his power doesn’t come from control. It comes from clarity. People in his village know him as the man who smiles often and speaks little. Children bring him flowers. Elders ask for his advice. And when you ask him what he does, he says, “I am learning how to trust again.”

I share this story with you not to romanticize pain. But to honor the possibility that exists beyond it.

You see, trust is fragile. Once broken, it leaves behind splinters. Even when mended, the scar remains. But that scar can be your strength. Not because you forget what broke you, but because you remember what rebuilt you.

In my journey as a Holistic Life coach, I’ve worked with hundreds of people—CEOs, artists, mothers, engineers, seekers. And if there’s one thread that runs through all their stories, it’s this:

We all crave truth. Not just from others. But from within.

Truth that doesn’t shrink in the face of fear.

Truth that doesn’t sell out for convenience.

Truth that doesn’t mask itself in perfection.

And truth requires trust.

Not blind faith. Not naive hope. But a grounded, courageous, raw trust in life, others, and ourselves.

If you’ve ever broken someone’s trust, I invite you to pause. Not to punish yourself. But to ask:

“What was I avoiding when I made that choice? What part of me didn’t feel safe enough to be honest?”

If someone has broken your trust, I invite you to soften—not to let them back in but to let yourself move forward. Holding on to betrayal keeps us bound to the past. Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It means freeing yourself from a story that no longer defines your worth.

As Abhisshek Om Chakravarty, I don’t claim to have all the answers. But I do know this:

Trust becomes a natural consequence when you live in alignment with your truth.

Not everyone will agree with you. But they will feel you. They will know you are real.

And that, my friend, is your true legacy.

So stay true. Stay grounded. Value the faith others place in you—but more importantly, value your trust in yourself because the world needs more real ones. And that begins with you.

Om poornamadah Poornamidam |

Poornaat Poornamudachyate |

Poornasya Poornamaadaya |

Poornamevaavashishyate |

Om shanti, shanti, shanti hi ||

Hari Om Tatsat!

Warm regards,

Abhisshek Om Chakravarty, (Coach Abhisshek)

Holistic Life Coach | Mindfulness Mentor | Family Mindset Coach 

"Within each soul lies infinite wisdom; I simply help others uncover their light."

Facebook | Instagram | X/Twitter