I Care Too Much What People Think of Me

Hombre joven sentado junto a una ventana, pensativo, repasando una conversación

You leave a dinner and on the way home you go back over everything you said.

That one line — did it land badly? Did she laugh because it was funny or to be polite? Could they tell I was uncomfortable?

Nobody else is having that conversation. Just you, with yourself, for the rest of the evening.

Wanting to be liked is not the same as not being able to exist without approval

Caring what people think of you is normal. We are relational animals: we build ourselves in the eyes of others, and that is not a flaw to be corrected.

The problem starts somewhere else. When approval stops being something you appreciate and becomes something you need in order to feel settled.

At that point you are not choosing anymore. You are calculating.

Some signs the balance has shifted:

  • You say yes while knowing perfectly well, inside, that it was a no.
  • You replay conversations hours later, hunting for the moment you came off badly.
  • You adapt so much to whoever is in front of you that you are a slightly different person with each one.
  • An unanswered message takes up your whole day.
  • Asking for something costs you enormously, while you give without being asked.
  • When someone is not happy with you, you cannot be happy either.

If three or four of those sound familiar, this is not a personality trait. It is a pattern. And patterns can be worked with.

Where it was learned

Nobody is born watching for other people’s reactions. It tends to be learned, and at some point adapting was probably the best option available.

Every history is different and this does not work as a single explanation, but there is something that comes up often in my practice. If as a child you felt that affection arrived when you were good, quiet, useful or funny — and cooled off when you were difficult or angry — you may have learned something very sensible: read the other person before reading yourself. Stay alert to the mood in the room. Adjust quickly.

If some of that resonates, it may be worth looking at. And if it does not, that is fine too: in your case it may come from somewhere else.

What does tend to be true is that it was not weakness. It was a form of relational intelligence, and at the time it worked.

The thing is that this learning does not switch itself off when you stop needing it. At forty it still runs as efficiently as it did at six, in situations where nobody is going to withdraw their affection because you said no.

Why “stop caring what people think” is useless advice

It is the advice you will have been given most, and the one that has changed the least.

It fails for two reasons.

The first is that it is not a decision. You cannot choose to stop feeling something. You can cover it for a while, and then it comes back stronger.

The second matters more: that advice asks you to disconnect from exactly where the information is. The discomfort is not the enemy. It is the signal that you are giving away something of your own, and it usually warns you before your head catches up.

The knot in your stomach when you say yes without meaning it is not a system failure. It is the system doing its job.

The real cost: you stop knowing what you want

This is the part almost nobody sees coming.

When you have spent years reading other people in order to know how to be, the question “and what do I want?” starts coming back empty.

It is not that you are afraid to say it. It is that you no longer know.

People come to my practice who can describe with enormous precision what their partner, their mother or their boss needs, and who, when I ask what they need, go blank. Or laugh with embarrassment, as if I had asked something improper. Or answer straight out that they have no idea.

Those three reactions say the same thing. They are the price of having lived outward for a long time.

The good news is that it was not lost. It stopped being listened to. And it can be heard again.

What actually helps

None of this gets solved by understanding it better. You already understand it well enough, and it still happens. The change is somewhere else.

Catching it as it happens, not afterwards. The work is not analysing last night’s dinner, but registering the exact moment you tense up and start calculating. At first you will notice ten minutes late. Then two. Then while it is happening. That “while it is happening” is where the possibility of doing something different appears.

Asking the body before asking your opinion. When you do not know whether you want something, your head will give you arguments for both sides. The body tends to be clearer and faster: it opens or it closes. Training that listening is training, not introspection.

Practising on small things. Do not start with the difficult conversation with your mother. Start by saying what you feel like eating. By not answering a message the second it arrives. By saying “I’d rather not” about something that does not matter. Tolerance for someone not being delighted with you is built in small doses.

Staying with the discomfort of disappointing someone. This is the heart of it. When you say no, something turns over inside, and the automatic reaction is to rush in and repair: over-explain, apologise, compensate. The work is to stay there a few seconds without fixing it. To find out that the relationship holds. It almost always holds.

Looking at whose voice that is. The one evaluating you from inside did not come from nowhere, and it often has a familiar tone. Seeing that clearly takes away a good deal of its authority.

Where therapy comes in

All of the above can be attempted alone, and something shifts.

What is hard to do alone is the other part: noticing in time. The pattern is automatic precisely because it is automatic. It fires before you get there.

In Gestalt therapy this is worked with where it is happening, not as a memory. If your voice drops while you are telling me something, or you laugh at something that is not funny, or you glance at me to check whether what you said went down well — that is happening here, between the two of us, and we can look at it together in the moment.

The consulting room ends up being a strange and rather useful place: a relationship where you can try saying what you think without anything breaking. And from there, little by little, take it outside.

If you want to see how I work, I explain it here: what Gestalt therapy involves.

To finish

This is not about not caring what people think of you. That is neither possible nor desirable.

It is about their opinion becoming one more piece of information, rather than the thing that decides how you are going to feel today.

I work with this often, in Gestalt therapy in person in Barcelona and online, in Spanish and English. If you recognised yourself while reading, get in touch and we can talk.