Asking for Approval Is the Death of Intuition

3/26/2026

The art of distrusting yourself always starts off minuscule and harmless. Turning to friends to ask them which shoes they like or which photo of you is better. Usually, it’s not one photo, it’s two, nearly identical. So you send both. You wait. You let someone else decide which version of you gets to exist in your own created space.

It feels social, even. Like part of the process of curating a satisfying and tasteful life, both online and off.

But somewhere between asking for approval and overriding your own opinion, something subtle begins to shift.

You stop choosing, and worse, second guessing your judgement. What seems like a reach, can actually be more eroding than you think.

This doesn’t happen all at once, or in any way dramatic enough to notice. Just in small, forgettable moments. You start to hesitate before trusting your own opinion. You start to feel like your first instinct needs to be checked, softened, confirmed. Confirmed by your friends, but also the world.

And over time, your taste will become something collaborative. A group effort. You no longer feel the confidence in believing in what you like, what you choose, and what feels most like you.

This is the erosion of identity, and faulting your own instincts. And the worst part of all? Nearly every single one of us is an accomplice. And don’t look to me, as I am no exception.

Ultimately, taste isn’t supposed to be democratic.

It is not built within a group or refined through multiple opinions. It starts in moments when something feels right, or perhaps even slightly off. Never universally agreed upon, but entirely yours.

The real problem with consensus is that it smooths everything out.

Consensus transforms taste to be more likable, more agreeable, more digestible. But in doing that, it strips away any edge it holds. The specificity. The part that made it uniquely yours in the first place.

And, if everyone agrees, it’s usually because nothing is at risk.

But the things that actually feel like you, the ones that define your taste, your perspective, your presence, aren’t always the things that get immediate approval. Sometimes they’re quieter and don’t translate right away. And just maybe, they are never understood at all.

This ties directly to intuition.

Every time you outsource a decision, no matter how small, you teach yourself that your initial instinct isn’t enough. That it needs to be measured against someone else’s reaction before it can be trusted.

Eventually, asking becomes automatic.

Intuition isn’t something you either have or don’t; it’s something you either use or slowly stop hearing.

And you won’t realize you’ve stopped until it becomes too quiet, too undervalued.

In today’s online age where everything is much too accessible, there’s a kind of safety in being agreed with. But it is also borrowed confidence.

Choosing something yourself means being responsible for it. It means trusting that your sense of what feels right is enough, even if no one else has weighed in. And even if no one else would have chosen the same thing.

So maybe it starts small, like choosing the photo without sending it to anyone first, or wearing the outfit you almost asked about.

But please, allow your first instinct to exist without interruption.