You don’t need more confidence—you need fewer self-abandonment habits

For years, I thought my biggest problem was confidence.

I’d look at friends who could ask for a raise without rehearsing the conversation five times, or people who shared opinions at dinner parties without watching the room for approval.

I figured I was missing some inner swagger gene, like there was a “confident person” software update I just hadn’t installed.

So I did what any self-aware, slightly anxious overachiever might do—I read the books, bookmarked the TED talks, highlighted journal prompts.

Some of it helped. But I’d always find myself in the same loop: I’d feel good for a bit, then find myself tongue-tied in meetings or saying “yes” when I meant “no” or rewording an email a dozen times to avoid sounding too direct.

Eventually, I stopped chasing confidence. And that’s when I started noticing something else—something deeper and stickier.

I wasn’t just low on confidence. I was high on self-abandonment.

The quiet ways we leave ourselves behind

Self-abandonment isn’t always dramatic. It’s not walking out on your life or pulling a Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride. Most of the time, it’s subtle. It sounds like:

• Saying “I’m fine” when you’re definitely not

• Laughing along with a joke that stings a little

• Nodding at feedback you disagree with just to seem “easygoing”

• Downplaying what you want because it might be inconvenient

• Ignoring your own discomfort to keep things “nice”

It’s not a single act—it’s a pattern. One that says: “My needs can wait. My truth is negotiable. You first, always.”

And the worst part? It looks a lot like being mature. Being accommodating. Being professional. Being a “team player.”

I started noticing how automatic it had become. How quickly I’d override my body’s signals—tired? Push through. Uncomfortable? Smile anyway. Upset? Swallow it. Move on.

It wasn’t confidence I was lacking. It was loyalty—to myself.

The lie of “just be more confident”

Most advice about confidence skips this part. It tells you to “fake it till you make it” or “own the room,” as if confidence is something you wear like a blazer.

But when you’re used to shrinking or shape-shifting to fit the moment, putting on confidence feels like playing dress-up. You might look the part, but you’ll feel the gap between who you are and what you’re performing.

Real confidence, I’ve come to believe, isn’t about projecting strength. It’s about coming home to yourself. It’s about being on your own side—even when you disappoint someone, even when you mess up, even when you don’t have the answers.

And that’s not something you can shortcut with power poses.

It’s something you build by unlearning the habits that taught you it was safer to leave yourself behind.

What I’m learning (slowly, imperfectly)

I won’t pretend I’ve mastered this. I still find myself editing my opinions mid-sentence or freezing up when I feel misunderstood. But here are a few things that have helped me move from self-abandonment to self-alignment:

1. Letting my body vote.
I’ve started checking in with physical cues before making decisions—tight chest, clenched jaw, racing thoughts. If my body says no, even when my brain wants a yes, I pause. I don’t always know why in the moment, but the pause is powerful.

2. Saying smaller truths out loud.
It feels like a muscle you strengthen. I’ve practiced saying things like “Actually, I’m not sure I agree with that” or “That made me feel a little off.” Not with drama—just with honesty. The sky hasn’t fallen yet.

3. Taking longer to respond.
I used to think giving fast answers made me look competent. Now I try to give slower answers that feel honest. “Let me think about it” has become a tiny, gentle rebellion against over-accommodation.

4. Getting comfortable with disappointment.
This one’s hard. But I’m realizing that being true to myself will sometimes disappoint other people. And that doesn’t make me bad—it just makes me real.

A reminder I needed to hear

Not long ago, I picked up Laughing in the Face of Chaos: A Politically Incorrect Shamanic Guide for Modern Life by Rudá Iandê—a book I’d been meaning to finish for a while. His insights landed hard this time, maybe because I was finally ready to hear them.

One line in particular stuck with me: “Being human means inevitably disappointing and hurting others, and the sooner you accept this reality, the easier it becomes to navigate life’s challenges.”

That hit a nerve—in the best way.

The book inspired me to rethink how much energy I’ve spent trying to be palatable, polished, perfect.

Confidence isn’t the result of performing perfectly. It’s what arises when you stop performing altogether. When you stop abandoning the messy, imperfect, deeply human version of yourself—and start standing with her instead.

Final words

You don’t need more confidence.

You need fewer moments where you mute yourself, shape-shift for approval, or abandon your needs to keep the peace.

Confidence is a byproduct, not a prerequisite. It grows in the soil of self-trust.

And self-trust? That starts every time you choose to stay with yourself—even when it’s awkward, even when it’s hard, even when someone else wishes you wouldn’t.

I’m still learning. But I’m learning on my own terms now.

And maybe that’s the kind of confidence I was looking for all along.