Who Would You Be Without Their Approval?

And what are you losing trying to earn it?

Every time you abandon your truth to be liked
you bury yourself a little deeper.

That’s not poetry.
That’s mechanics.

You weren’t born needing approval.
You were born whole.
Loud.
Wild.
Unfiltered.
Free.

You arrived with nothing to prove
and everything to express.

Then the programming began.

Be good.
Be polite.
Don’t upset anyone.
Smile.
Tone it down.
Be reasonable.
Be grateful.
Be agreeable.

Shrink.

Nod when you want to scream.
Laugh when something feels wrong.
Swallow your no so someone else can stay comfortable.
Translate your truth into something palatable.
Digestible.
Non threatening.

And slowly
almost invisibly
you learned the most dangerous equation of all:

Safety equals approval.

Not truth.
Not alignment.
Not self respect.

Approval.

You learned that love could be withdrawn.
That belonging was conditional.
That being yourself came with consequences.

So you adapted.

You edited your voice.
Filtered your instincts.
Performed versions of yourself that got rewarded.
You became skilled at reading rooms
anticipating reactions
pre empting rejection.

You called it emotional intelligence.
But most of the time it was just fear with good manners.

Because approval is addictive.

It gives short term relief.
A hit of safety.
A sense of being held.

But the cost is always the same.

You stop asking what feels true
and start asking what will be accepted.

You stop listening inward
and start scanning outward.

You trade aliveness for approval
and call it maturity.

But look honestly.

What has it cost you?

How many times have you said yes
when your body was screaming no?

How many times have you stayed silent
because being honest felt risky?

How many versions of yourself have you abandoned
just to avoid disapproval?

Approval never makes you free.
It just makes you manageable.

And the most painful part
is that the version of you they approve of
is never the real one.

It’s the edited one.
The contained one.
The one who doesn’t rock the boat.

Which means the approval you’re chasing
can never actually land.

Because it isn’t you they’re approving of.

That’s the trap.

Real freedom begins the moment you ask a terrifying question
and answer it honestly:

Who would I be
if I stopped auditioning for love?

Who would I become
if I let people misunderstand me
rather than misunderstand myself?

Who would I lose
if I stopped betraying my truth to be accepted?

You don’t lose safety when you stop chasing approval.
You lose the illusion of it.

And what you gain
is something far more stable.

Self trust.
Integrity.
Groundedness.
A nervous system that no longer lives on permission.

Not everyone will like you when you stop performing.

Good.

The people who only loved the mask
were never loving you anyway.

And the ones who can meet you in your truth
will finally be able to see you.

That’s not rebellion.
That’s remembrance.

The truth?

You’ve been building a life around being digestible.

Curating your personality like a fucking LinkedIn profile.
Optimised. Polished. Inoffensive.
Just edgy enough to seem real
but never enough to make anyone uncomfortable.

You filter your expression.
Edit your emotions.
Tone down your instincts.
Swallow the truth right as it rises in your throat.

Not because you are fake
but because you learned early that being fully yourself came with risk.

So you learned to be acceptable.
Likeable.
Easy to be around.

You learned how to read the room
before you read yourself.

All so they’ll like you.
Validate you.
Stay.
Approve.
Not judge you.
Not leave you.

And it works. For a while.

You get the nods.
The praise.
The social permission slip to exist.

But here’s what you need to hear
and you might not like it.

Approval is not peace.

It feels like peace because it quiets the fear temporarily.
It soothes the nervous system just enough to keep you compliant.

But it is not freedom.

It is a cage made of applause.

The bars are invisible
because everyone is clapping.

And the price you pay
is subtle but brutal.

You lose your edge.
Your fire.
Your clarity.
Your inner authority.

You stop asking
What do I feel
and start asking
How will this land

You stop being led by truth
and start being managed by reaction.

Approval keeps you safe
but safety is not the same as being alive.

Because the self you present for approval
is always a reduced version.

And over time
living as a reduced version of yourself
feels like suffocation.

That dull ache
That low level anxiety
That sense that something is missing

That is not a mystery.

That is you
grieving yourself
while everyone else applauds the performance.

Every time you chase approval, you abandon yourself.

And the fucked up part
is you rarely notice it happening.

Because it doesn’t arrive as betrayal.
It arrives as politeness.
As being reasonable.
As being easy to be around.

It’s subtle.

It looks like saying yes
when your whole body says no.

Like laughing at shit
that makes your soul cringe.

Like posting the polished version of your pain
because the real one feels too messy to be accepted.

Like keeping your opinions soft and vague
so no one can really push back.

Like avoiding silence
because it might make them uncomfortable.

Like asking for permission
to be who you already fucking are.

None of it feels dramatic.
None of it feels like self destruction.

It just feels like fitting in.

And that’s why it’s dangerous.

Because you get very good at being liked.
Very skilled at reading reactions.
Very efficient at adjusting yourself in real time.

So good
that you forget how to be honest.

Not just with them
but with yourself.

You stop noticing when you’re tense.
When you’re shrinking.
When you’re editing truth mid sentence.

You call it being mature.
Being diplomatic.
Being socially intelligent.

But underneath it
there’s a quiet exhaustion.

Because performing yourself
is work.

And the body always knows
when it’s lying.

Here’s the line most people never cross honestly
so read it twice.

If being loved requires performance
it is not love.

It is compliance.

Love does not ask you to disappear.
It does not require self censorship.
It does not punish your truth.

Anything that costs you your honesty
is too expensive.

Approval keeps you tolerated.
Truth sets you free.

And the moment you stop performing
some people will step back.

Let them.

They were never relating to you anyway.
Only to the version of you
that made them comfortable.

The real work
is not becoming more likeable.

It is becoming more real
and letting the fallout happen.

That is where self respect is born.

Let’s talk about the real cost of approval:

It doesn’t show up as disaster.
It shows up as erosion.

It looks like burnout
that rest doesn’t fix.

Emptiness
even when life looks full from the outside.

A low level resentment
you can’t quite name
but feel everywhere.

Relationships that are safe
but strangely hollow.
No conflict.
No depth.
No real friction.
Just mutual performance and quiet distance.

A job that makes sense on paper
but kills your soul one slow day at a time.

A version of you
that is always tired
not because life is hard
but because pretending is exhausting.

You’re doing everything right.

You’re responsible.
Measured.
Adaptable.
Considerate.

And yet
you feel wrong.

Not broken.
Not failing.
Wrong.

That’s the signal.

Because you didn’t build your life around what’s true.
You built it around what’s acceptable.

You shaped your choices
your tone
your desires
your dreams
around being palatable.

Easy to digest.
Easy to approve.
Easy to keep around.

But palatable is not the same as present.

Presence has edges.
Presence disrupts.
Presence risks being misunderstood.

Approval rewards consistency.
Presence demands honesty.

And the body always knows the difference.

That quiet dread you feel on Sunday nights
That heaviness before certain conversations
That relief when you’re finally alone

Those are not random.

That’s your system telling you
this life fits the mask
not the soul.

And here’s the hard truth.

You cannot feel alive
in a life designed to keep everyone else comfortable.

Something in you knows this.
That’s why this keeps surfacing.

Not to punish you but to wake you up.

Who would you be without needing to be liked?

Sit with that.
Don’t rush past it.
Don’t intellectualise it.
Let it sting.

Because for most people
approval isn’t a habit.
It’s an identity.

It’s the personality they’ve been performing since childhood.
The one that learned early
love comes with conditions.

It’s the smile that never reaches the eyes.
The laugh that arrives half a second too fast.
The constant monitoring of how you’re being received.

It’s the overachieving.
Trying to earn safety through excellence.

The overexplaining.
Trying to preempt rejection before it arrives.

The overgiving.
Trying to secure belonging by being useful.

The chronic fucking niceness
that everyone praises
and no one actually knows.

Because niceness isn’t kindness.
It’s fear wearing a name tag.

Fear of being misunderstood.
Fear of being disliked.
Fear of being left.

So you become agreeable.
Flexible.
Low maintenance.
Easy.

You pride yourself on being “good with people”
when really
you’re just good at disappearing.

And the tragedy
is that the world rewards this.

You get compliments.
Opportunities.
Positive feedback.

But none of it touches the real you
because the real you isn’t in the room.

That’s why it still feels empty.
That’s why the praise never lands.
That’s why you’re always waiting for the next hit of approval.

Because you are trying to fill a self abandonment shaped hole
with other people’s reactions.

So ask it again. Braver this time.

Who would I be
if I stopped trying to be liked
and started being honest?

What would I say
that I currently swallow?

What would I stop doing
that I secretly resent?

Who would I disappoint
if I chose myself?

Those answers will scare you.
Good.

Because on the other side of that fear
is the version of you
that doesn’t need permission to exist.

Not louder.
Not harsher.
Just real.

And real is the one thing approval can never give you.

But here’s the liberation:

You can stop.

Right now.
Mid sentence.
Mid pattern.
Mid performance.

You can start disappointing people
who only loved the version of you that stayed small.

Let them be confused.
Let them adjust.
Let them leave if they must.

Anyone who requires your self betrayal to stay
was never offering love
only conditional access.

You can stop asking for permission
to feel what you feel
to want what you want
to say what’s true for you.

You don’t need consensus to be honest.
You don’t need approval to be real.

You can start telling the truth
even when your voice shakes.

Shaking doesn’t mean you’re wrong.
It means you’re undoing a lifetime of silence.

You can let go of the masks
that bought you connection
at the cost of yourself.

Because connection that requires performance
is not connection.
It’s negotiation.

And the moment you stop negotiating your truth
something profound happens.

Your body exhales.
Your nervous system recalibrates.
Your energy comes back online.

You stop leaking life force through overexplaining.
You stop rehearsing conversations that never happen.
You stop managing reactions that aren’t yours to manage.

Not everyone will like the real you.

That’s not a problem.
That’s the filter.

The people who remain
will meet you, not the mask.

And the ones who don’t
were only ever in relationship with your compliance.

This isn’t about becoming harder.
It’s about becoming whole.

Less pleasing.
More present.
Less managed.
More alive.

That’s the liberation.

And it doesn’t come from fixing yourself.
It comes from finally letting yourself be seen
without editing the truth to earn a seat.

Let’s make it real:

Close your eyes.

Not for drama.
Not for aesthetics.
For honesty.

Ask yourself
quietly
without editing the answer:

What am I afraid they’ll see
if I stop performing?

And then shut up long enough
to hear it.

What comes up?

That you’re angry?
Not polite anger.
Clean anger.
Truthful anger.

That you’re fucking powerful?
More powerful than you’ve ever been allowed to show.

That you don’t want to be
who they think you are?

That you’re not as soft
or agreeable
or obedient
as you’ve been pretending to be?

Good.

That’s not your shadow.
That’s your truth.

And it’s been waiting patiently
not for their approval
but for yours.

You’ve been asking the wrong audience.

You’ve been standing on stage
performing for people
who never had the authority
to validate you in the first place.

The fear isn’t that you’ll be rejected.
The fear is that you’ll finally be seen
and you won’t be able to go back.

Because once you let that truth breathe
the old life won’t fit anymore.

And that’s the point.

You don’t need to become someone new.
You need to stop suppressing who you already are.

The anger isn’t the problem.
The power isn’t the problem.
The refusal to stay small
is not the problem.

The problem was believing
you needed permission to exist as yourself.

Read this slowly
because it’s the line everything turns on:

The moment you stop seeking validation
is the moment you start returning to yourself.

Not louder.
Not colder.
Not harder.

Just whole.

And nothing is more threatening
to a world built on compliance
than someone who has stopped asking
to be allowed to be real.

What approval has cost you:

Your voice
because you learned to soften it.

Your rest
because you were always “on”.

Your intuition
because you trusted reactions more than your gut.

Your boundaries
because you confused niceness with safety.

Your creativity
because raw truth felt too risky to share.

Your presence
because you were busy managing perception.

Your joy
because joy doesn’t survive performance.

Your fucking soul
because you kept trading truth for belonging.

That’s the bill.

And you’ve been paying it quietly
for years.

But here’s the turn.

You get to stop bleeding for applause.

You get to step off the stage
and feel your feet on the ground again.

You get to build a life
where you belong to yourself
not to the audience
not to expectations
not to approval
not to fear.

A life where your yes is clean
your no is honoured
your voice is yours again.

Some people will not clap
when you stop performing.

That’s fine.
They were never listening anyway.

This is the shift
from being liked
to being aligned.

From tolerated
to alive.

From approval
to authority.

And once you make that move
there is no going back.

Because nothing compares to the relief of finally living
as someone who no longer needs permission to exist.

Practice: “The Unapproval Ritual”

Today
pick one interaction.

Just one.
Not the biggest.
Not the safest.
The real one.

Say what you actually mean.

Not what will land best.
Not what will keep the peace.
Not what will make you look good.

The truth.
As it is.
Without editing.

Let it be awkward.
Let the air change.
Let the room feel it.

Do not justify.
Do not soften.
Do not over explain.

Clarity does not need defending.
Truth does not require cushioning.

Do not apologise for your honesty.
Apologise only if you are cruel.
Clarity is not cruelty.

Now notice what happens in your body.

The heat.
The shake.
The urge to backpedal.
The reflex to perform.

That fear
is not danger.

It is orientation.

Hold it like a fucking compass.

Because fear doesn’t always point to what’s wrong.
Sometimes it points to what’s real.

Stay with it.
Breathe.
Do not abandon yourself mid sentence.

That sensation
that aliveness
that grounded discomfort

That
is what freedom tastes like.

Not comfort.
Not applause.

Self respect.

And once you feel it you will never confuse approval with safety again.

Ask yourself:Not casually.
Not rhetorically.

Honestly.

What parts of me have I muted
to be accepted?

What instincts did I silence early
because they were inconvenient
too loud
too much
too honest?

What am I still trying to earn
that should be innate?

Love
belonging
safety
permission to exist without apology

What truth have I been avoiding
because it might change
how they see me?

And who is “they”
really?

Whose love am I still performing for
and why?

Sit with the answers.
They won’t shout.
They’ll surface quietly
in the body
in the breath
in the places you tense without realising.

This isn’t about blame.
It’s about recognition.

Because once you see
where you’re still performing
you’re faced with a choice.

Keep the approval
or keep yourself.

And here’s the truth no one teaches you early enough:

The moment you stop performing
you don’t lose love.

You lose illusions.

What remains
is smaller
cleaner
truer.

Relationships that can hold honesty.
Work that doesn’t require self betrayal.
A nervous system that no longer scans for permission.

You don’t need to become fearless.
You just need to stop confusing fear
with a reason to stay silent.

This is not about burning everything down.
It’s about no longer burning yourself
to keep others warm.

That’s where the real work begins.

Not in being liked.
But in being real and letting that be enough.

Final Words:

They trained you to believe
approval equals love.

But that’s not love.
That’s emotional capitalism.

That’s teaching you to package yourself
so you can be consumed
praised
kept
without ever being fully known.

Love does not require editing.
Love does not demand a fucking PR version of your soul.
Love does not ask you to disappear politely.

So here’s the truth. Read it slowly.

If your truth makes them uncomfortable
let it.

If your boundaries disappoint them
so be it.

If your authenticity costs you their validation
pay the fucking price.

Because your freedom is worth more
than their permission.

You do not need to be liked.
You need to be free.

You do not need to be approved of.
You need to be honest.

You need to become someone
who can stand in their full fucking truth
without scanning the room
to see how it lands.

Without waiting for applause.
Without asking for consent to exist.

So stop auditioning.

Stop refining yourself
into something easier to digest.

Stop trading your edge
for acceptance.

Start remembering.

You were never here to be acceptable.
You were never here to be palatable.
You were never here to be managed.

You were here to be
undeniably you.

And the moment you live from that place
the right people don’t need convincing.

They recognise you.

That’s not rebellion.
That’s return.