Trust, But With Caution

Trust, But With Caution
“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice… well, that’s on me.”

We’re taught from a young age to trust. It starts with our parents, teachers, childhood friends. We’re told that people are mostly good, that honesty is the best policy, and that trust is the foundation of every relationship. And in many ways, that’s true. Trust is powerful. It builds connection. It brings comfort. It helps us feel seen.

But here’s the other side of that coin: not everyone is trustworthy, and life has a way of reminding you of that, sometimes more than once.

I’ve trusted people who spoke sweet words to my face but carried knives behind their backs. I’ve opened up to people who later used my vulnerability as leverage. I’ve given the benefit of the doubt, only to be proven wrong in the most disappointing ways. And you know what? It stings. It chips away at the part of you that wants to believe the best in others.

But with time and a few hard-earned lessons, I’ve learned this: trust is not a gift. It’s a responsibility. And not everyone is equipped to handle it.

That doesn’t mean we become cold or suspicious. It means we become wise. We observe. We listen. We recognize patterns, not promises. We watch how someone treats the server at dinner, how they talk about others when they’re not around, how they react when they're challenged. Those little moments tell the truth that words try to hide.

Real trust should never feel rushed or demanded. It should grow naturally, rooted in consistency, accountability, and actions that match the talk. If someone makes you feel guilty for not trusting them fast enough, that’s your first red flag.

And let’s be honest. Some folks are great at pretending. They know how to look the part, speak the right words, and earn your confidence until they no longer benefit from it. That’s why I say trust people, yes, but not with blinders on. Keep your eyes open. Guard your peace. Don’t ignore your gut.

And when someone proves over and over again that they are trustworthy through time, through storms, through uncomfortable honesty, cherish that person. Loyalty like that is rare. And when you find it, it’s worth the risk.

But for the others—the ones who leave you questioning your worth, second-guessing your instincts, or cleaning up messes you didn’t make—you are under no obligation to keep handing them the key to your heart. Forgive, yes. But boundaries are healthy. Protecting your peace is holy work.

In the end, trust is a bridge. Not everyone gets to cross it. And that’s not cruel. It’s wise.

—Dr. Nick