“The privilege of a lifetime is to be who you really are.” ~ Carl Jung
Where did I want to eat?
The question was straightforward, and the answer should have been simple. But as my mind went over the options, my thoughts weren’t focused on what I wanted. Instead, I was busy doing on the right choice, which may cause conflict.
Yes, my partner had asked where I wanted to go. But over time, I learned that answering honestly often pays off. My choices may be questioned, dismissed, or debated. If I tried to stand firm, I would spend the entire night on edge—knowing the service, the food, the noise, even the temperature—waiting for something to go wrong.
Usually, I avoided cutting altogether. Ironically, my indecisiveness led to being told I was boring or had no idea at all.
I was not yet. Until the age of 20, I was known as an active and opinionated person. I knew what I wanted and I went after it quietly. In fact, it was this confidence and strength that initially drew my partner to me when we met in college and, not long into our marriage, became a source of friction.
Over time, constant arguments, distorted facts, and constant questioning of my judgment eroded my confidence. I worried and second-guessed myself all the time.
Keeping the peace at home became my main focus, and I did everything I could to make sure my partner’s needs were met.
With my consciousness focused outward, I gradually lost touch with my inner guidance. My natural life kicked into high gear, and I became a great people pleaser.
This way of spilling over into my professional life. I believed that everyone was smarter, more capable, and had better skills than me. Whether I’m setting a strategy or executing a project, I go through every action, question every decision, and delegate to a higher authority.
In my personal life, my relationships are one sided. Convinced that I was stiff, quiet, and generally uninterested, I took the position of a simple, underfed friend. I believed that if I disagreed or was too strict, the relationship would fall apart.
Finally, I broke up with my partner and returned to my hometown. It was only by reuniting with old friends that I clearly saw who I was. Since they didn’t know me before I entered life, they were surprised by what they saw—my doubts, my lack of ideas, the way I seemed to shrink from simple things.
Through their eyes, I remembered the person I was. And I realized how far I was from myself. As painful as it was, that realization gave me hope. If I had learned to always ask myself, “What will keep the peace?” maybe I can learn to ask myself a different question instead: “What feels true to me right now?”
If you feel like you just realized that the person you are now feels less than the person you used to be, know that this is not because you are weak. It’s because somewhere along the way, he learned that losing weight felt safer than standing strong. And if you’re wondering what life would be like if you started realizing your passions and expressing yourself, read on.
Rebuilding Confidence
Use your body as a barometer.
You ask yourself, “What feels true to me now?” a powerful question. However, I found myself so out of touch with my wants, needs, and desires that the answer often dissolved into a myriad of options and outcomes.
In an effort to get past my confused mind, I turned my attention to my body. The tightness in my chest meant I was about to agree to something that didn’t feel right. A wave of nausea showed an emotional reaction that did not match my true feelings.
By practicing tuning into your body, you can begin to take long breaks to notice these physical signs. And they will be a silent guide, helping you to interrupt the automatic urge to overwrite yourself.
Start with low resolutions.
With time and practice, I began to use body sensations as guides to what I wanted. I was surprised to find that I still had desires, needs, and ideas. They could disappear—they were simply buried.
But reacquainting myself was one thing. Using my voice to express my findings was another. Speech is not heard. It wasn’t safe.
So I started slowly. I have identified people in my life who may backslide or destroy what I love. I also make sure that I don’t overwhelm my budding decision-making ability by burdening it with anything heavy.
I chose a friend I had known for twenty-five years as a starting point. Reaching for a dinner invitation, I include the phrase “I’m in a good Italian mood.” As my truth slipped from my tongue, I had to resist adding the caveat “but whatever you like.”
During dinner I paid close attention to my body and the feelings that arose, including the desire to make sure the night went well, as if the efficiency of the service, the quality of the food, and even the experience of my friend rested on my shoulders.
As you begin this process, you may notice how overwhelming your usual hypervigilance can be. The weight of trying not to make the “wrong” decision can feel crippling, and the urge to back down can be almost overwhelming. But with each small, honest decision, that hardness begins to soften. What once seemed dangerous began to sound possible.
Practice letting others down without letting yourself down.
As I expanded into my new identity, conflict inevitably arose and cooperation was needed. I was happy to discover that I could compromise what I wanted to allow someone else’s needs to be met without losing my own. In fact, the act of cooperation felt easy and giving, which made a huge difference to the difficult feeling that accompanied decisions that were against my best interests.
But even with the sense of cooperation, there were times when asserting my needs disappointed others.
I was attending my best friend’s wedding. The weekend was full of fun and laughter, and I had a great time. However, by the time Sunday evening started, I was tired of the community.
The plan was to go to dinner, but the idea of ​​sitting in a noisy restaurant and having conversations was mentally and emotionally exhausting. I told my friend my truth, who immediately supported my request not to attend the dinner.
In a brave mood, I made my needs known to the assembled group, preparing to leave. Most greeted the news neutrally, but one person did not like my stance and tried to manipulate me into changing my mind. I did my best to express my feelings, but he continued to attack, focusing on the point of anger.
This moment was difficult but it gave me the opportunity to continue to know myself and to be confident. At that moment, I realized something important: just because someone else is embarrassed doesn’t mean I did something wrong. The discomfort I felt was not a sign that I should give up. It was just a strange feeling of self-selection.
Rebuilding self-esteem is not about bold declarations or positive returns. It’s about quiet entry, slow pauses, deliberate decisions, and allowing yourself to move past the disappointments of others and stay in your true place. Confidence is rebuilt through ordinary moments and seemingly trivial decisions.
If you feel out of touch with your wants and desires, know that this part of you is not gone. Waiting for you to tune in again. Every time you do, you come back a little closer to yourself. And thus you move from reacting from a place of fear to a place of confidence.
About Lynn Crocker
Lynn Crocker is passionate about helping people change their inner dialogue and take control of their thoughts to create a meaningful, happy, and fulfilling life—one thought at a time. If you would like support in moving this mindset forward or guidance in developing a stronger, more empowering inner dialogue, we invite you to schedule a free discovery call to see if mindset coaching is right for you. Learn more at lynncrockercoaching.com.
