“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” ~Carl Jung
Where did I want to go out to eat?
The question was straightforward, and the answer should have been easy. But as my mind flipped through the options, my thoughts weren’t focused on what I wanted. Instead, I was preoccupied with making the right choice, the one least likely to cause tension.
Yes, my partner had asked where I wanted to go. But over time, I learned that answering honestly often came with consequences. My choice might be questioned, dismissed, or turned into a debate. If I tried to stand my ground, I spent the rest of the evening on edge—hyper-aware of the service, the food, the noise, and even the temperature—waiting for something to go wrong.
More often than not, I avoided deciding altogether. Ironically, my indecision led to being told I was boring or had no opinion at all.
I hadn’t always been this way. Up to my early twenties, I was known as feisty 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 freshman orientation in college and, not long into our marriage, became a source of tension.
Over time, frequent arguments, distorted facts, and the constant questioning of my judgment chipped away at my confidence. I became anxious and second-guessed myself constantly.
Keeping the peace in our household became my primary focus, and I went to great lengths to ensure that my partner’s needs were met.
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-pleaser.
This way of being spilled into my professional life. I believed everyone was smarter, more capable, and better skilled than I was. Whether setting a strategy or executing a project, I overthought every action, wavered on each decision, and deferred to the person with the most authority.
In my personal life, my relationships became one-sided. Convinced I was rigid, quiet, and generally uninteresting, I slipped into the role of the easy, low-maintenance friend. I believed that if I expressed disagreement or had strong preferences, the relationship would fall apart.
Eventually, I extracted myself from my partner and moved back to my hometown. It was through reuniting with old friends that I clearly saw the person I had become. Having known me before my descent into survival mode, they were surprised by what they saw—my hesitation, my lack of opinions, the way I seemed to shrink from simple preferences.
Through their eyes, I remembered the person I used to be. And I recognized how far I had drifted from myself. Though painful, that realization gave me hope. If I had learned to constantly ask myself, “What will keep the peace?” perhaps I could learn to ask myself a different question instead: “What feels true for me right now?”
If you are feeling a dawning realization that the person you are now feels smaller than the person you once were, know this is not because you’re weak. It is because somewhere along the way, you learned that shrinking felt safer than standing firm. And if you are wondering what life could be like if you began to notice your preferences and voiced your opinion, read on.
Rebuilding Self-Trust
Use your body as a barometer.
Asking yourself, “What feels true for me right now?” is a powerful question. However, I found myself so out of touch with my wants, needs, and desires that the answer often dissolved into a whirlpool of options and consequences.
In an effort to move beyond my confused mind, I turned my attention to my body. A tightness in my chest often meant I was about to agree to something that didn’t feel right. A wave of nausea signaled an emotional response that wasn’t aligned with my true feelings.
By practicing tuning into your body, you can begin to pause long enough to notice these physical signals. And they will become a quiet guide, helping you interrupt the automatic urge to override yourself.
Start with low-stakes decisions.
With time and practice, I began using the physical sensations as guides to what I wanted. I was surprised to discover that I still had desires, needs, and opinions. They hadn’t disappeared—they had simply been buried.
But getting re-acquainted with myself was one thing. Using my voice to express what I discovered was another. Speaking up didn’t feel natural. It didn’t feel safe.
So I started slowly. I identified the people in my life who would be least likely to push back or dismiss my preferences. I also made sure I didn’t overwhelm my budding decision-making ability by burdening it with anything too heavy.
I chose a friend I’d known for twenty-five years as a starting point. Reaching out with a dinner invitation, I included the phrase “I’m really in the mood for Italian.” As my truth rolled off my tongue, I had to resist adding the caveat “but whatever you prefer.“
During dinner I paid close attention to my body and the impulses that surfaced, including the urge to ensure that the evening went smoothly, as if the efficiency of the service, the quality of the food, and even my friend’s experience rested on my shoulders.
As you begin this process, you may notice how strong your habitual hypervigilance can be. The weight of trying not to make the “wrong” decision can feel paralyzing, and the impulse to pull back may be almost overwhelming. But with each small, honest choice, that intensity begins to soften. What once felt dangerous starts to feel possible.
Practice disappointing others without abandoning yourself.
As I expanded into my rediscovered self-awareness, inevitably conflict arose and cooperation was required. I was pleased to discover that I could compromise what I wanted to allow someone else’s needs to be met without losing myself. In fact, the act of cooperation felt light and giving, which created a stark contrast to the heavy feeling that accompanied decisions that went against my best interests.
But even with a cooperative mindset, there were times when asserting my needs disappointed others.
I had attended a close friend’s destination wedding. The weekend was full of fun and laughter, and I enjoyed myself immensely. However, by the time Sunday evening rolled around, I was socially exhausted.
The plan was to go to dinner, but the idea of sitting in a noisy restaurant and holding conversations was mentally and emotionally taxing for me. I shared my truth with my friend, who immediately supported my request not to go to dinner.
In an emboldened state, I communicated my needs to the group that had gathered, preparing to leave. Most greeted the news with neutral emotion, but one person did not like my position and attempted to bully me into changing my mind. I did my best to express myself, but she remained on the attack, fixed in a place of personal offense.
This moment was difficult but presented an opportunity for me to dive further into self-knowing and trust. In that moment, I realized something important: someone else’s disappointment does not mean I have done something wrong. The discomfort I felt wasn’t a sign that I should abandon myself. It was simply the unfamiliar sensation of choosing myself.
Rebuilding self-trust isn’t about bold declarations or grand reinventions. It’s about quiet check-ins, small pauses, deliberate decisions, and allowing yourself to move through others’ disappointments and remaining in your place of truth. Self-trust is rebuilt in ordinary 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 is waiting for you to tune back in. Each time you do, you return a little closer to yourself. And that is how you move from responding from a place of fear to a place of self-trust.
About Lynn Crocker
Lynn Crocker is passionate about helping people shift their inner dialogue and take charge of their thoughts to create a more purposeful, joyful, and fulfilling life—one thought at a time. If you’d like support carrying this mindset forward or guidance in cultivating steadier, more empowering inner dialogue, she invites you to schedule a free discovery call to see if mindset coaching is right for you. Learn more at lynncrockercoaching.com.
