I Don't Trust My Own Feelings: Every Decision I Make Is Based on Others

I often find myself wondering：Do I really know what I want?

When I make decisions, I almost always look to others first—my older brother, my parents, my boss, the people around me.

If my brother says a certain path is promising, I start doubting whether my own interests are “too unrealistic.”

When I see friends getting married and having children, I suddenly wonder, “Should I be doing something similar?”

If my boss frowns, I adjust my tone of voice instantly.

Even in relationships, I don't approach someone because I genuinely feel close—I approach only if I believe I won’t be rejected.

It’s not that I don’t want to express myself.

It’s that I don’t trust that my feelings are valid.

I learned to outsource my judgment to others, because it used to be safer

As a child, I was sensitive—too sensitive, perhaps.

I learned early on to monitor my parents’ moods，to determine whether I was “doing the right thing” by the way they responded.

If they approved, I relaxed; if they frowned, I shrank.

That survival skill followed me into adulthood:

When choosing a career, I didn’t ask “What do I want to do?”

I asked “Which path will be most accepted?”

When dating, I didn’t ask “Do I like this person?”

I asked “Am I good enough for them?”

Even in friendships, I’d spend more energy wondering “Am I being a good friend?” than simply being.

I outsourced my sense of goodness, worth, and direction to others’ reactions and opinions.

Later I realized this was a symptom of a “fragmented self”

In psychology, this is known as a sign of a non-integrated self-structure.

When we grow up in environments where authentic feelings are consistently dismissed, misunderstood, or shamed,

we learn to suppress those feelings and develop what’s called object-referenced decision-making.

It’s like trying to navigate life without an internal compass，always scanning the skies for someone else's North Star.

This creates two painful consequences:

We become highly dependent on others for validation, but never truly secure;

Even when we do make a choice, we feel disconnected from it, thinking, “This isn’t really mine.”

I’ve experienced the pain of not trusting even my emotions

I once liked someone deeply，but I kept second-guessing that feeling:

“Do I really like her, or am I just afraid of being alone?”

“If I show affection, will she think I’m too much?”

“Her background is stronger than mine—am I even good enough?”

I wasn’t evaluating the potential of the relationship.

I was calculating whether I would be accepted.

In those moments, I wasn’t a whole person.

I was a collection of fears, shaped by a life of trying to meet expectations.

I’m still in the process of change—but I’ve started to practice

Now I try to ask myself one core question in every decision:

If no one else knew I was doing this—would I still want it?

This question brings me closer to my own voice，even if that voice is faint, hesitant, or imperfect.

I also practice delaying external consultation:

Before I ask others what they think, I write down what I think.

Just for a moment, I let myself take the lead.

And slowly, I’m beginning to see:

I’m not indecisive. I’m rebuilding sovereignty.

So yes, I’m still unsure—but I now know why I’m unsure

My confusion doesn’t mean I lack direction.

It means I was never taught how to be my own compass.

Now I’m learning to bring that compass home—not waiting for my brother, my parents, or society to go first，but allowing my real self to step forward, even if quietly, even if slowly.

That alone is a kind of freedom.