Personal development
Stop seeking approval: the path to your true self
We live attentive to others' gaze, measuring every gesture by the judgment it might provoke. That incessant search for approval has deep roots and distances us from who we really are. This article invites you to recognize that pattern, to look at it with compassion, and to recover trust in your own inner voice.
By Pedro J. Pérez ·
Living in other people's minds
There is a silent form of exhaustion that comes not from work or obligations, but from permanently inhabiting other people's minds. We wake up wondering how they will see us, we choose our words calculating their effect, and before sleeping we review whether we might have made a good impression. That constant vigilance consumes enormous energy and, nevertheless, most people consider it simply part of being a polite or responsible person. The difference between genuine consideration and dependence on approval is subtle but decisive: one is born of respect, the other of fear.
When our sense of worth depends on external recognition, we hand over the keys to our peace to others' hands. Praise becomes a necessary dose and criticism, even the slightest, a disproportionate blow. Over time, we stop knowing what we truly want because we have trained our gaze to detect expectations before our own desires. Recovering inner sovereignty does not mean becoming insensitive to others, but ceasing to need their permission to exist with authenticity.
The origin: being seen in order to survive
The need for approval is not a character defect, but an early adaptation. Every human being needs, in addition to food and shelter, to feel seen in their essence. When that recognition is missing or arrives conditioned, the child learns something painful but effective: if I show only the part that pleases, I will be accepted. Thus they build a version of themselves designed to fit in, hiding what could generate rejection. That strategy worked when they were small and probably allowed them to maintain important bonds.
Understanding this completely changes the way we judge ourselves. What today we call insecurity was yesterday an intelligent solution to a real problem. Even the most loving parents can transmit this dynamic, because they too carry unresolved wounds and inherited ideas about how a child should be. The chain is not broken by blaming those who raised us, but by recognizing the pattern and deciding, with tenderness, not to repeat it. The greatest gift we can offer to those who come after us is our own inner work.
The myth that we are worth what we produce
There is a very widespread belief according to which our value depends on what we do, achieve, or produce. Under that logic, resting becomes guilt and stopping, a threat. Many people cannot take vacations without feeling they are failing someone, as if the world were going to collapse in their absence. It is an elegant trap: the more we do, the more we believe we deserve, and the more we believe we deserve, the harder it becomes to stop.
To dismantle it, a simple exercise is enough: imagine a one-day-old baby. No one would demand achievements or titles to consider them valuable. Their presence is enough. That same criterion should apply to us, even if it is hard. Excessive self-demand is not a sign of strength, but of a compassion toward oneself that became atrophied. Recovering it is not indulgence: it is the foundation from which any sustainable change is built.
The body collects what the mouth keeps silent
Sustained stress is not an abstraction: it activates survival mechanisms designed for brief emergencies, not for years of continuous tension. When we live adapting to a pace that ignores the body's limits, the body ends up sending bills we would rather not receive. Difficulty sleeping, irritability, exhaustion that is not recovered with rest are messages, not failures. Listening to them in time is an act of intelligence, not weakness.
The key question is where we are not saying no when we should. It usually happens at work, where the fear of disappointing weighs more than one's own well-being, and in personal relationships, where we confuse love with unlimited availability. Learning to set boundaries does not drive valuable people away; on the contrary, relationships that survive an honest no are those that were held together by something more solid than complacency.
Recovering the no we were taught to silence
There is a stage in childhood, around the age of two, in which the human being discovers the power of refusing. It is not a whim: it is the rehearsal of one's own boundary, the first sketch of the self. When that no is punished or interpreted as disrespect, the child learns to silence it in order to preserve the bond. Years later, that adult does not know how to say no, and often does not even know what they want to say yes to.
Rebuilding that capacity requires patience and, above all, compassion toward the past. What today we see as a limitation was, at the time, a way of surviving. Many people have had to abandon parts of themselves, languages, talents, spontaneity, to fit into environments that did not accept them. Recognizing that sacrifice without guilt is the first step to recovering what was put away. Healing does not consist of erasing the story, but of thanking it for its function and letting it rest.
A practice to return to yourself
Compassionate inquiry is a simple practice that consists of asking yourself honest questions and listening to the answer in the body before the mind. Sit in a quiet place, close your eyes, and ask yourself: what part of my life am I living for others? Do not look for an immediate answer; observe what sensation appears in your chest, in your stomach, in your throat. That physical signal is usually more sincere than any elaborate reasoning.
Then change the usual question. Instead of asking yourself how to improve, try: how can I develop my full potential? The first formulation starts from the idea that there is something defective in you; the second, from the idea that there is something waiting to grow. Repeat this exercise for a few minutes a day for a week and write down what you discover. You do not need definitive answers: it is enough to begin listening to yourself. You are not broken, and you never were; you only learned to survive in a way that no longer serves you.