There was a point where trusting myself felt rebellious. Not empowering in the aesthetic, Instagram-quote way, but uncomfortable and lonely. Trusting myself meant going against advice that sounded reasonable. It meant disappointing people who thought they knew better. It meant sitting with my own decisions without external reassurance to soften the edges.
For a long time, I didn’t trust myself because I had been taught not to. I was encouraged to defer, to wait, to seek consensus before making choices that affected my own life. Logic was praised. Intuition was tolerated, but only if it aligned with what made sense to everyone else. So I learned to question my inner voice before anyone else could.
When I did listen to myself, I often apologized for it. I explained my reasoning. I over-justified my choices. I wanted people to understand that I wasn’t acting impulsively or emotionally, even though emotion was part of the data. I didn’t realize how much energy I was spending trying to make my inner knowing acceptable to the outside world.
Trusting myself didn’t happen all at once. It happened in small moments where I chose my own clarity over external comfort. Times when something felt off and I didn’t override that feeling just to keep the peace. Times when I walked away without having every answer lined up. Times when I said no without offering a long explanation.
What surprised me most was how calm it felt. Not easy. Not painless. But calm. Trusting myself didn’t bring chaos the way I had been warned it would. It brought alignment. Even when the outcome wasn’t what I hoped for, I didn’t feel disconnected from myself in the process. That mattered more than being right.
There were moments where trusting myself meant standing alone in my decision. No cheering section. No validation. Just me and the quiet certainty that staying true to what I felt was better than betraying myself to avoid discomfort. That kind of trust doesn’t feel loud or dramatic. It feels steady.
I also learned that trusting myself doesn’t mean I never doubt. Doubt still shows up. Fear still has opinions. But they don’t run the decision-making anymore. They get a seat, not the steering wheel. I can acknowledge uncertainty without handing over control.
The biggest shift came when I stopped using outcomes as proof of whether I could trust myself. Sometimes things still fall apart. Sometimes people still leave. Sometimes choices still hurt. But that doesn’t mean my intuition was wrong. It means life is layered, and trust isn’t about guarantees. It’s about integrity.
Trusting myself taught me that I don’t need to predict everything correctly to be grounded. I just need to stay connected to my own truth as things unfold. That connection has become my anchor. Not certainty. Not approval. Just alignment.
I don’t look for permission the way I used to. I don’t ask others to override what I already know. I move slower now, but with more intention. I listen differently. And when I choose, I choose from a place that feels honest, even if it’s uncomfortable.
Trusting myself didn’t make life simpler. It made it clearer. And clarity, even when it’s hard, is still peace.
Final Thought
Trusting yourself won’t protect you from pain.
It will protect you from abandoning yourself to avoid it.
And that changes everything.
Disclaimer
Delusional, But Correct is written from personal reflection and intuitive experience. It’s not professional advice or a substitute for therapy or clinical guidance. Take what resonates. Leave what doesn’t.
