“The highlight of a lifetime is who you truly become.” ~ Carl Jung
Where did I want to go to eat?
The question was straightforward, and the answer should have been simple. But as my mind flipped through the options, my thoughts weren’t focused on what I wanted. Instead, I was busy creating the right Choice, can cause the least excitement.
Yes, my partner asked where I wanted to go. But over time, I’ve learned that answering honestly often comes with consequences. My choice may be questioned, dismissed or debated. If I tried to stand my ground, I spent the rest of the evening—hyper-conscious of the service, the food, the noise, and even the temperature—waiting for something to go wrong.
More often than not, I avoid making decisions altogether. Ironically, my indecisiveness led to being told I was boring or that I had no opinion.
I wasn’t always this way. In my early twenties, I was known as boisterous and opinionated. I knew what I wanted and went after it with quiet determination. In fact, it was this confidence and strength that initially drew my partner to me when we met during college freshman orientation and became a source of excitement not long into our marriage.
Over time, frequent arguments, distorted information, and constant questioning of my judgment chipped away at my confidence. I became anxious and second-guessed myself constantly.
Keeping the peace in our family became my primary focus, and I went to great lengths to make sure my partner’s needs were met.
By focusing my awareness outward, I gradually lose touch with my inner guidance. My survival instincts kicked into high gear, and I became the ultimate people-pleaser.
This is how it spills over into my professional life. I believed that everyone was smarter, more competent and better skilled than me. Whether setting a strategy or executing a project, I thought through every task, swayed every decision, and deferred to the person with the most authority.
My relationships in personal life have become one sided. Convinced that I was rigid, quiet, and generally uninterested, I slipped into the role of easygoing, low-maintenance friend. I believed that if I disagreed or made strong choices, the relationship would fall apart.
Finally, I distanced myself from my partner and returned to my hometown. Reuniting with old friends made me see clearly the person I had become. Knowing me before my descent into survival mode, they were surprised by what they saw—my hesitation, my lack of opinion, the way I seemed to shrink from simple choices.
Through their eyes, I remembered the person I was. And I recognized how far I had drifted from myself. Although painful, that realization gave me hope. If only I had learned to constantly ask myself, “What will keep peace?” Perhaps I can learn to ask myself a different question instead: “What feels true to me now?”
If you feel a dawning realization that you feel smaller than the person you are now, know that it doesn’t mean you’re weak. That’s because somewhere along the way, you’ve learned that it feels safer to shrink than to stand firm. And if you’re wondering what life could be like if you started noticing your preferences and expressing your opinions, read on.
Rebuild confidence
Use your body as a barometer.
Ask yourself, “What feels true to me right now?” A powerful question. However, I find myself so out of touch with my wants, needs and desires that the answer often dissolves into a vortex of options and consequences.
In an effort to overcome my distracted mind, I focused on my body. The tightness in my chest often meant I was about to agree to something that didn’t feel right. Nausea signaled an emotional response that was out of sync with my true feelings.
By practicing tuning into your body, you can start pausing long enough to notice these physical signals. And they will become a calm guide, helping you resist the automatic urge to override 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 discover that I still had desires, needs, and opinions. They didn’t disappear – they were just buried.
But reacquainting myself was one thing. It was another to use my voice to express what I had discovered. Talking didn’t feel natural. It didn’t feel safe.
So I started slowly. I’ve identified people in my life who are least likely to defer to or dismiss my choices. I also made sure I didn’t overwhelm my budding decision-making abilities with anything too heavy.
I chose a friend whom I have known for twenty-five years as a starting point. To arrive with a dinner invitation, I include the phrase “I’m really in the mood for Italian.” As my truth rolled off my tongue, I had to resist adding the warning “But what you like.”
During dinner I paid close attention to my body and the emotions that arose, with an urge to make sure the evening went smoothly, as if the skill 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 habitual hypervigilance can become. The weight of trying not to make the “wrong” decision can feel paralyzing, and the impulse to hold back can be almost overwhelming. But with each small, honest choice, that intensity begins to soften. What once seemed dangerous began to seem possible.
Practice letting others down without sacrificing yourself.
As I expand into my rediscovered self-awareness, conflict inevitably arises and collaboration is needed. I was happy to discover that I wanted to allow myself to meet someone else’s needs without losing myself to what I could compromise. In fact, the act of collaboration felt light and giving, which created a stark contrast to the heavy feelings associated with decisions that went against my best interests.
But even with a cooperative mindset, there were times when asserting my needs frustrated others.
I attended a close friend’s destination wedding. The weekend was full of fun and laughter, and I enjoyed myself immensely. However, by Sunday evening I was socially exhausted.
The plan was to go out to dinner, but the idea of sitting and conversing 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 to dinner.
Emboldened, I voiced my demand as the group gathered, preparing to leave. Most greeted the news with neutral emotion, but one person didn’t like my position and tried to bully me into changing my mind. I did my best to express myself, but he remained on the attack, fixated on the place of personal offense.
This moment was difficult but presented an opportunity for me to dive further into self-knowledge and faith. 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 just the unfamiliar sensation of choosing myself.
Rebuilding confidence is not about bold declarations or grand reinventions. It’s about quiet check-ins, short breaks, intentional decisions, and letting yourself go through the frustrations of others and being in your place of truth. Confidence is rebuilt in simple moments and seemingly inconsequential decisions.
If you feel out of touch with your wants and desires, know that this part of you is not gone. It awaits your return. Every time you do, you’ll come back a little closer to yourself. And that’s how you move from a place of fear to a place of confidence.
about Lynn Crocker
Lynne Crocker is passionate about helping people change their inner dialogue and take charge of their thoughts to create more purposeful, joyful and fulfilling lives – one thought at a time. If you want help moving this mindset forward or guidance on developing a steady, more empowering internal dialogue, she invites you to a free discovery call to see if mindset coaching is right for you. Learn more at lynncrockercoaching.com.
