Learning to Trust Yourself Again

By Brea Segger

The conversations I find myself having often begins with a decision. Sometimes it's a business decision.

Sometimes it's about a relationship. Sometimes it's a move, a career change, or a feeling that something needs to shift, even if the person can't quite explain why.

The details are usually different, but eventually the conversation arrives at the same question.

"How do I know if it's the right decision?"

It's an understandable question.

Most of us have made decisions we regret. Most of us have experienced what happens when things don't unfold the way we hoped they would. It makes sense that we want reassurance before taking a step into the unknown.

For a long time, I thought people were looking for answers when they asked this question. I'm not so sure anymore. What I often hear underneath it is something else.

A desire for certainty.
A wish that someone could tell us exactly what will happen if we choose one path over another.
That we'll be okay. That we're not making a mistake.
That we won't look back six months from now and wish we'd done something different.

The trouble is that life rarely offers that kind of guarantee.

And so we start looking outside ourselves.

We ask people we trust. We gather opinions. We read books. Listen to podcasts. Make lists of pros and cons. Sometimes we spend so much time trying to figure out what to do that we lose touch with what we're actually feeling.

I've done this myself.

More than once.

There have been moments in my life when I was convinced I needed more information, when what I really needed was the courage to acknowledge what I already knew.

Not what I wanted to know.

Not what would have been most convenient.

What I knew.

I've noticed that people often say they don't trust themselves when what they really mean is that they don't trust uncertainty.

There's a difference.

Trusting yourself doesn't mean you'll always know the right answer. It doesn't mean every decision will work out exactly as planned. It doesn't mean you'll never experience disappointment or make a choice you later question.

It means you're willing to stay in relationship with yourself, even when things are unclear.

Even when there isn't a guarantee.

Even when you don't yet know how the story ends.

When I look back on some of the most important decisions I've made, certainty wasn't what guided me.

In fact, many of them felt uncomfortable.
There was doubt.
Fear.
A lot of second-guessing.

But underneath all of that, there was usually a quieter voice that knew something before I was ready to admit it. I think most people have experienced that voice.

The conversation you know needs to happen.
The boundary that needs to be set.
The opportunity that keeps returning to your attention.
The truth you've been circling around for months, sometimes years.
Not because it's hidden.
Because it's inconvenient. Or uncomfortable. Or because acknowledging it means something may need to change.

The people I work with are often surprised to discover that self-trust isn't built through certainty.

It's built through honesty.

Through paying attention to your own experience. Through noticing what feels true before immediately asking someone else what they think. Through learning, slowly and imperfectly, to take yourself seriously.

Not because you're always right.

But because your life is asking something of you that no one else can answer.

And perhaps that's what self-trust really is.

Not confidence. Not certainty. Not having everything figured out. Just a willingness to listen.