“A lifetime privilege is to become who you really are.” ~Carl Jung
Where did I want to go out to eat?
The question was clear and the answer should have been easy. But as my mind raced through the possibilities, my thoughts weren’t focused on what I wanted. Instead, I set about making the right choice that causes the least tension.
Yes, my partner asked me where I wanted to go. But over time, I’ve learned that giving an honest answer often has consequences. My choice may be questioned, rejected, or turned into an argument. If I tried to get my seat, I spent the rest of the evening in the front row – hyper-aware of the service, the food, the noise and even the temperature – waiting for something to go wrong.
Most of the time I avoided the decision. Ironically, my indecisiveness led to being told I was boring or had no opinion at all.
I wasn’t always like this. Up until my early twenties, they were known as wild and bona fide. I knew what I wanted and went after it with quiet determination. In fact, it was this confidence and strength that initially attracted my partner to me when we first met at college orientation, and it soon became a source of tension in our marriage.
Over time, frequent arguments, skewed facts, and constant questioning of my judgment eroded my confidence. I became restless and constantly second-guessing myself.
Keeping peace in our household became my primary goal, and I did everything I could to meet my partner’s needs.
With my awareness focused outward, I slowly lost touch with my inner guidance. My survival instincts kicked into high gear and I became the quintessential people-lover.
This method has infiltrated my professional life. I thought everyone was smarter, more talented and more educated than me. Whether it was setting a strategy or executing a project, I overthought every action, wavered on every decision, and deferred to the person with the most authority.
In my private life, my relationships have become one-sided. Convinced to be stiff, quiet, and generally uninteresting, I slipped into the role of easygoing, low-maintenance friend. I thought if I disagreed or had strong preferences, the relationship would fall apart.
I finally broke up with my partner and moved back to my hometown. Reuniting with old friends gave me a clear view of the person I had become. Having known me before I slipped into survival mode, they were surprised by what they saw—my hesitation, my lack of opinions, my retreat from simple preferences.
Through their eyes, I remembered the person I was. And I realized how far I had drifted from myself. Although painful, this realization gave me hope. If I had learned to constantly ask myself, “What will keep the peace?” perhaps I could learn to ask myself another question instead: “What is true for me right now?”
If you feel like the person you are now feels less than who you once were, know that it’s not because you’re weak. That’s because somewhere along the way, he learned that shrinking is safer than standing firm. And if you’re wondering what life could be like if you started noticing your preferences and voicing your opinions, read on.
Rebuilding your confidence
Use your body as a barometer.
Ask yourself, “What is true for me right now?” strong question. However, I was so disconnected from my wants, needs, and desires that the answer often dissolved into a vortex of possibilities and consequences.
In order to overcome my confused mind, I turned my attention to my body. The tightness in my chest often meant I was agreeing to something that wasn’t good. A wave of nausea signaled an emotional response that was out of step with my true feelings.
By practicing tuning into your body, you can begin to pause long enough to notice these physical signs. And they become silent guides that help interrupt the automatic urge to overrule yourself.
Start with low-stakes decisions.
With time and practice, I began to use physical sensations as a guide to what I wanted. I was surprised to find that I still had desires, needs, and opinions. They didn’t disappear – they were simply buried.
But getting to know myself again was one thing. Expressing what I discovered with my voice is another. The speech was not natural. It wasn’t safe.
So I started slowly. I have identified the people in my life who are least likely to suppress or reject my preferences. I was also careful not to overburden my budding decision-making ability by burdening it with things that were too difficult.
I chose a friend of mine whom I had known for twenty-five years as a starting point. Reaching the phrase “I’m really in the mood for Italian” with a dinner invitation. As my truth rolled off my tongue, I had to resist the warning, “whatever you want.”
During dinner, I paid close attention to my body and the impulses that surfaced, among other things, to ensure that the evening went smoothly, 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 strong your usual hypervigilance can be. The weight of avoiding a “bad” decision can feel crippling, and the urge to retreat can be almost overwhelming. But with each small, honest choice, this intensity begins to soften. What once seemed dangerous begins to feel possible.
Practice disappointing others without giving up on yourself.
As I expanded into my rediscovered self-awareness, conflicts inevitably arose and cooperation was required. I was happy to discover that I can compromise what I want to allow others’ needs to be met without losing myself. In fact, the act of cooperation seemed easy and selfless, a stark contrast to the heavy feelings that accompanied decisions that were against my best interests.
But even with a cooperative mindset, there have been times when asserting my needs has disappointed others.
I attended a close friend’s wedding. The weekend was full of fun and laughter and I had a great time. However, by the time Sunday night rolled around, I was socially exhausted.
The plan was to go out to dinner, but the idea of sitting and talking in a noisy restaurant was mentally and emotionally taxing for me. I shared my truth with my friend, who immediately supported my request not to go out to dinner.
Emboldened, I communicated my needs to the group that had gathered and was about to leave. Most people received the news with neutral emotions, but one person did not like my situation and tried to get me to change my mind. I did my best to express myself, but he remained on the attack, fixated on a place of personal offense.
This moment was difficult, but it gave me the opportunity to further immerse myself in self-knowledge and confidence. In that moment, I realized something important: someone else’s disappointment doesn’t mean I did something wrong. The discomfort I felt was not a sign that I should abandon myself. It was simply the unfamiliar feeling that I had chosen myself.
Rebuilding confidence isn’t about making bold statements or grand reinventions. It’s about quiet check-ins, pauses, thoughtful decisions, and allowing yourself to work through other people’s disappointments and stay in a place of truth. Self-confidence is rebuilt in ordinary moments and seemingly insignificant decisions.
If you feel disconnected from your wants and desires, know that this part of you has not disappeared. It’s waiting for you to tune in again. Every time you do this, you get a little closer to yourself. And so you move from responding 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 ownership of their thoughts to create a more purposeful, joyful and fulfilling life – one thought at a time. If you would like support in moving this mindset forward, or guidance in developing a more solid, powerful internal dialogue, I invite you to schedule a free discovery call to find out if mindset coaching is right for you. More information: lynncrockercoaching.com.
