Psalm 118:8

It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in humans.

A colleague once told me I was too honest and too trusting. That was a hard truth for me to hear. I don’t want to become paranoid or assume everyone has an agenda against me.

Recently, I was reminded of what she said. She was right. It seems I never learn. You would think after everything I’ve experienced, I would remember.

Most people mean well. Some do not. Some hide their intentions, and when they’re caught, they turn it back on you. Many people don’t believe they are capable of hurting others. They protect their good-guy image at all costs, even to the point of gaslighting.

I have two sides. Everyone does. I try hard, yet I fail too. I worry about the people I confront. Then I feel guilty for confronting them. Does that make sense? Should I keep quiet so they don’t get hurt, even if I do?

Why don’t I ever learn? Probably for the same reason I can’t stay angry. A day later, I’m over it. I forgive, I move on, and I sometimes wonder why that seems so difficult for others. But I am grieving—grieving the loss of my husband and the loss of a friendship. Grief changes how you see people. It also makes you long for connection, which can make it easier to trust when you should be more cautious. I still need people, I just don’t always know how to manage them right now.

I truly wish my guardian angel would reach out and smack me on the head when I’m about to trust too quickly. Maybe he already has, and I just wasn’t listening. I don’t know.

This much I do know: God has always taken care of me, and I need to remain diligent in remembering that. So I mourn. I’m sad. I feel stupid. And I make impulsive choices.

I’m learning to take refuge in the LORD instead.

---

I had an awful time trying to wake this morning. I listened to some soft classical music with my head under the covers and dozed.

I have ADHD. In order to survive this world and fit in prior to retirement, I masked all the time. It was exhausting. I still mask some, but since my husband’s death, I let the mask fall more often. I can now be myself.

I have decided to stay in bed most of the day, do some writing, maybe read, until it is time to get ready for Mass.

My dogs are aging rapidly. Kaya reminded me of this about two hours ago. She was happily throwing the sheet around on her dog bed. I thought she was fixing it to lie down in. Instead, once done, she squatted and peed all over it. This is the second time this has happened. I was shocked. Her sheet and bed cover are in the wash at the moment. It briefly reminded me of caring for my husband during his Alzheimer’s days—how memory can get pulled up by the smallest things.

I saw an advert for an AI companion that cuddles with you. It looks like a huge marshmallow and it won’t cross boundaries. Then I could cuddle safely with it, my head on its fuzzy chest and its fat arms around me. I may invest in it. No I’m not kidding. If only it could walk and talk, it would be perfect. I’d never need another person again. I’d never have to worry about saying the wrong thing and hurting their feelings or their hurting mine—at least for now.

Regardless I will always turn to God. He has always been there for me. I trust in Him, always—even when I mess up.

Jesus, I trust in You. Take care of everything. Amen.