I’ve been sitting with this question lately:
If the signals were always there…
If we often saw them much earlier than we’re willing to admit…
Why is it so hard to trust what we see?
Why do we keep overriding our own knowing?
The more I’ve reflected on this, the more I’ve come to believe that most of the time we’re not actually waiting for more information. We’re waiting for validation. Recognition. Permission. Certainty.
And often, we’re waiting for someone else to confirm what a part of us already knows.
The hidden ways we outsource our authority
Most of us don’t consciously decide to hand our authority away. It happens quietly by telling ourselves things like:
- If this person sees my value, then I’ll trust it.
- If this mentor believes in me, then I’ll move forward.
- If this collaborator chooses me, then I’ll know I’m ready.
- If this audience responds, then I’ll know I’m on the right path.
- If this relationship works, then I’ll know I’m lovable.
These thoughts often operate beneath the surface of our awareness, shaping decisions we believe are rational and objective.
And to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with wanting support, encouragement, recognition, or partnership. These are deeply human desires.
The challenge begins when we make someone else’s recognition responsible for creating something that can only emerge from within us.
When life refuses to validate the story
I’ve experienced this many times. Looking at a person, an opportunity, or a collaboration and thinking:
If they could just see what I see.
If they could just recognize what’s here.
If they could just acknowledge the value.
Then everything would fall into place.
But life has a way of challenging that narrative.
Through the collaboration that doesn’t happen.
The invitation that never arrives.
The mentor that doesn’t recognize what you hoped they would.
The opportunity that goes elsewhere.
The relationship that remains exactly what it is.
And eventually something becomes impossible to ignore: The thing you were waiting for someone else to validate hasn’t disappeared.
Your gifts are still there.
Your capacity is still there.
Your vision is still there.
Your work is still there.
Your knowing is still there.
Nothing essential was removed.
What disappeared was the hope that someone else would be the one to make it real for you.
The freedom hidden inside disappointment
At first, that realization can feel painful. It can feel like a loss, requiring grieving.
But eventually it begins to feel like freedom.
Because the moment you stop waiting for someone else to confirm your value, readiness, direction, or worth, you become available to confirm it for yourself.
This is where self-trust really begins.
Not as certainty or confidence. And certainly not as the belief that you’ll always make the right decision right away.
Self-trust is the willingness to remain in relationship with yourself even when you don’t know exactly what comes next.
Why certainty is not the same thing as trust
Many people believe they need certainty before they can move forward. But certainty is a moving target.
There is always another question. Another unknown. Another risk. Another reason to wait.
Trust doesn’t arrive when uncertainty disappears.
Trust emerges when you’re willing to stay connected to yourself in the presence of uncertainty.
When you’re willing to listen. To honor what you know. To update your understanding based on what reality is showing you.
The absence of certainty is not evidence that you cannot trust yourself. In many cases, it is the very place where self-trust is built.
Reading the signal without needing it to mean more
One of the most interesting shifts I’ve noticed is this:
The less I need someone else to validate me, the easier it becomes to trust what I’m seeing. I’m no longer asking a situation to answer questions it was never designed to answer.
I’m not asking a collaboration to tell me I’m valuable.
I’m not asking a mentor to tell me I’m capable.
I’m not asking a relationship to tell me I’m worthy.
Those questions have already been answered elsewhere. And once they have, the signal becomes much easier to read.
The question becomes:
What is actually here?
Who is this person showing themselves to be?
What is this situation showing itself to be?
What is true here?
Not what I hope is true.
Or what I need it to mean.
Or even what it could become.
Simply:
What is here?
Standing beside your own knowing
Truth doesn’t always make decisions easier, though. Sometimes it requires grief. Endings. Letting go of possibilities we wanted to believe in.
But something important changes when we stop arguing with what we know. The internal conflict begins to soften. Instead of fighting your own perception, you begin standing beside it.
And perhaps that is the real shift.
Deciding that your relationship with yourself matters more than your attachment to a particular outcome. Without needing to become infallible.
What self-trust really is
We often think self-trust is about confidence. I don’t think it is. I think self-trust is a quiet commitment. A decision to stay in relationship with yourself. A decision to stop abandoning your own knowing every time hope tells a more appealing story.
Because seeing the signal is one thing. And noticing the moment you’re about to override it is something else entirely.
That moment is often something we miss. The pull toward hope. The urge to explain things away. The temptation to give reality one more chance to become something different.
And perhaps self-trust is simply this:
The willingness to return to what you already know. Again and again. Especially when the signal you’d prefer not to see arrives.
Paula Immo works with founders and leaders navigating the gap between knowing and doing. Her focus is on fear of visibility, hesitation patterns, and the inner work that supports sustainable leadership.