Learning to Trust Myself After Years of Self-Doubt

I’ve never fully trusted myself. Every decision I made felt like something I needed confirmation on at first. I’d ask advice, seek reassurance, and constantly replay things in my head trying to figure out if I was making the “right” choice.

The smallest decisions would leave me second-guessing myself. Was I overreacting? Was I being too sensitive? I spent so many years looking outside myself for answers that I rarely stopped to consider that maybe I already had some of them.

I feel like I’ve been wired to second-guess myself. I’ve done it for as long as I can remember, even as a kid. I used to think that I would outgrow a lot of my insecurities that I had formed early on—being too quiet, too shy, too sensitive—but still as an adult, I haven’t outgrown them. I’m still the same shy, quiet, sensitive girl who used to think that I wasn’t worthy of things because of how badly I saw myself.

Watching others move so effortlessly through life made me feel like something was wrong with me. And I believed that for most of my life.

I remember being fresh out of college with my Journalism degree and thinking, “Oh, now what?” How am I supposed to get a job? I doubted my abilities, even though I had just accomplished something major. Graduating college was a milestone. A piece of me felt proud for pushing through so much exhaustion. I accomplished all of that undiagnosed, and I see now just how much effort I put into it.

But even with the degree, I was stuck. I knew myself well enough to know that getting that “dream job” felt impossible because I was constantly second-guessing my abilities. I used to think, “I’m not smart enough,” “I’m not worthy enough.” And if I did get a position, “people are never going to like me,” “I’m going to mess something up,” and worst of all, “I’m going to be met with rejection, criticism, judgment.”

I just remember anytime I received harsh feedback, I internalized it and made it into an insecurity.

There was one time I met with my college counselor, and she apparently saw more enthusiasm and praise in other people in the department. Me, on the other hand, I never showed that type of enthusiasm. And I remember her staunchly asking me, “Why are you studying journalism?” “You should consider something else; you don’t seem to apply yourself like others.” I was shocked by her words, and they stuck with me for years. It made me doubt myself so much that I was considering changing fields because of one comment. That’s honestly all it takes for me. One simple comment can spiral into an array of self-doubt and possibly change the trajectory of my life. I actually let other people’s words dictate my life.

After enough years of questioning yourself, self-doubt begins to feel normal. You stop trusting your instincts. You dismiss your feelings. And you convince yourself that everyone else’s opinion must be more accurate than your own.

I became very good at talking myself out of things—opportunities, ideas, or trusting what I knew deep down.

Looking back, there were so many moments where my instincts were actually trying to protect me. I just wasn’t listening.

I used to have a job that emotionally drained me every day. The working environment wasn’t conducive. It was a very small PR firm, and my boss ran things old-school style—giant stacks of papers to go through as an example. Every day, the papers piled up, stack after stack. I’d complete one and grab the next. All while my boss would yell out questions to me and a few other co-workers. She essentially wanted us to get through the papers while simultaneously answering her questions and doing her requests as priority. But then she’d get mad for not finishing quickly enough, even though she asked us to do something else. All in all, it felt like we were doing her job for her, while she reaped the benefits. That didn’t sit well with me at all.

Every day, I wanted to quit. But in my mind I just couldn’t because I knew the difficulties I’d face if I did. I’d have to find a new job—something that has always been very hard for me because I’m so introverted. I don’t like “selling” myself to other people to get a job. You’re essentially putting yourself out there for judgment, criticism, and rejection. And that makes me so uncomfortable because I assume they’re thinking the worst of me. I have a hard time communicating because I’d already set myself up for failure. My insecurities significantly outweighed my capabilities.

But after being at that PR firm for so long, I knew I couldn’t handle it anymore. So I quit. Did I find another job soon afterward? No. I had too many horrible interviews that I couldn’t face another one. I psyched myself out every single time because I assumed I wasn’t good enough. That eventually led to, “Gee, I’m not good at anything.” And that was my mindset for years.

There were times I knew I was exhausted but pushed through anyway. Times I knew a situation wasn’t healthy for me but convinced myself I was just complaining. Times my body was screaming for rest and I ignored it because I thought everyone else seemed capable of doing more.

The truth is, I spent years trying to trust everyone else before I trusted myself. And that’s an incredibly exhausting way to live.

One of the biggest turning points in my life came when I finally received my diagnoses. It gave me context. For the first time, I had explanations for experiences I had spent years criticizing myself for. Things I thought were character flaws suddenly made more sense.

All of my sensitivity, overwhelm, difficulty with certain environments, tendency to overanalyze, need for routine, and struggles with burnout made me realize I wasn’t failing at being a person. My brain was just processing the world differently. And that understanding changed the way I spoke to myself.

Instead of constantly asking, “What’s wrong with me?” I started asking, “What do I need?”

I still struggle with self-doubt. I don’t think it completely disappears. But these days, it doesn’t have as much power over me.

Trusting myself now looks different than I imagined it would. It’s saying no when something doesn’t feel right. It’s trusting my instincts when they tell me a situation isn’t serving me. Most importantly, it’s understanding that I don’t need to have it all figured out right now.

I spent so much of my life believing that confidence meant certainty. But I’m learning that confidence is trusting yourself enough to take the next step, even when you can’t see the entire path.

I still have moments where I question myself. Days where uncertainty creeps in. I still catch myself looking for reassurance from time to time. But I’ve come a long way from the person who believed everyone else’s voice mattered more than her own.

Learning to trust myself is a slow process. A healing process. A lifetime of unlearning old stories and replacing them with better ones. I think that’s what self-trust really is—not having all the answers, not being fearless, but believing that no matter what happens, you’ll be able to meet yourself with compassion along the way.

It’s a lesson I’m still learning, but for the first time in a long time, I think I’m finally starting to believe it.

When have you mistaken self-doubt for “truth” about yourself?

“Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do.” — Dr. Benjamin Spock

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