Psychology

Approval addiction is a search for external confirmation of your worth. You check photos to see if they liked you, reread messages, look for signs that “everything is okay.” And every time approval isn’t there, you feel empty. But the problem isn’t that you’re not being praised. The problem is that you’ve given yourself the right to be enough.

The first step is to notice whose approval you’re seeking. Parents? Coworkers? Friends? Algorithms? Often, these are people whose opinions are no longer relevant to your life. But you still live to get an A from someone who dropped out long ago.

Second, ask yourself: “How do I feel when I don’t receive approval?” Fear? Shame? Panic? These feelings aren’t about “not being enough.” They’re about the wound of rejection instilled in childhood. And they need self-compassion, not approval.

Third, start keeping an “inner approval journal.” Every day, write down three things you’re happy with about yourself—without judging others. “I listened to my colleague today.” “I chose healthy food.” “I allowed myself to relax.” This is a gradual shift in focus from the external to the internal.

Fourth, stop asking for validation. Don’t ask, “Do I look okay?” Don’t double-check, “Are you angry?” Don’t look for, “Did someone like me?” Every request is a transfer of power to someone else. And your strength lies in your inner “yes.”

Fifth, trust yourself, even if you make mistakes. Mistakes aren’t proof of inadequacy. They are data. And you have the right to learn from your decisions, not wait for others to approve.

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Rest isn’t about lying on the couch. It’s about resting your nervous system. But many of us lie there for hours and still feel tired. Because our bodies are resting, but our minds are working at full capacity: analyzing, planning, criticizing, mulling over everything. This isn’t rest. It’s exhaustion in slow motion.

Myth One: “If I’m not productive, I’m worthless.” This is a belief ingrained in childhood. We believe: value equals contribution. But humans are not machines. You have the right to exist without results. Your life is already an achievement enough.

The second step is to identify your type of fatigue. It can be physical, emotional, cognitive, or existential. If your muscles are tired, a walk, sleep, or massage will help. If your soul is tired, tears, conversation, and silence will help. If your mind is tired, you need breaks, nature, and non-action. Rest should be commensurate with your fatigue.

Third, turn off “background mode.” Even on vacation, many people check email, think about work, and plan their return. This is chronic stress. True rest begins when you tell yourself, “Right now, I’m not responsible for anything.” This isn’t laziness. It’s a prerequisite for recovery.

Fourth, plan rest as a meeting with yourself. Not “I’ll rest if I have time.” But “I have a meeting with myself at 4:00 PM for 30 minutes.” No phone. No tasks. Just you, tea, and silence. This is a ritual of self-respect.

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Conflict isn’t destruction. It’s an attempt to connect. But many of us fear conflict because we were taught as children, “Argument is bad. Agreement is love.” We grew up believing that peace = silence, and tension = danger. But silence isn’t always peace. Sometimes it’s a disguised misunderstanding that has been building for years.

The first step is to redefine conflict. It’s not a battle. It’s a dialogue with different points of view. Healthy relationships aren’t ones without conflict. They’re ones where there’s respect even in disagreement.

Second, learn to distinguish between “I feel” and “you do.” Instead of “You’re ignoring me!” say, “When I don’t hear back from you, I feel unimportant.” This isn’t an accusation. It’s an invitation to understanding. And it opens the door, not closes it.

Third, don’t try to “win.” The goal of conflict is not to humiliate, prove, or win. The goal is to be heard and to understand the other person. If you leave the conversation feeling, “We understand each other better,” you’ve won, even if you didn’t get your way.

Fourth, allow yourself to be angry. Anger is not the enemy. It’s a signal of a boundary violation. Suppressed anger turns into resentment, passive aggression, and withdrawal. Expressed anger, however, fuels change. The key is not to attack the other person, but to speak from your own experience.

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Loneliness isn’t about the absence of people. It’s about a lack of understanding. You can be with friends, at a family dinner, in a relationship—and still feel, “I’m not seen. I’m not heard. I’m here, but I’m not.” It’s not your fault. It’s a sign that you’re not connected to yourself.

The first level of loneliness is external. No one really listens to you. You speak, and they respond not to your words, but to your mood. This is painful. But the second level is internal: you don’t listen to yourself. You ignore your feelings, suppress your desires, consider them “stupid.” And then, even if someone comes, you can’t accept them because you don’t believe you deserve to be heard.

The second step is to stop and ask yourself: “What am I feeling right now?” Not “what I should feel.” Not “what’s normal.” But simply—what is. Maybe it’s anger. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s emptiness. Allow this feeling to be. Don’t analyze it. Simply acknowledge its existence. This is the first bridge to yourself.

Third, stop saving others from your loneliness. Many enter into relationships not out of love, but out of a desire to “stop being alone.” But this is a trap. You become attached not to the person, but to your hope: “Now I’m not alone.” And when the person doesn’t live up to this hope, you feel betrayed. But they were just being themselves. And you were looking for salvation.

Fourth, loneliness is not an enemy. It’s a signal. It says, “You’ve abandoned yourself.” It doesn’t demand you find someone else. It asks: come back to yourself. Take time to be quiet. Take a walk without your phone. Write a letter to yourself. Not for publication, but for communication.

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Many of us grew up with the mindset: “Be good, and you’ll be loved.” We smile when we want to cry. We agree when we want to say “no.” We remain silent when we should shout. And over time, we lose touch with ourselves—because we’re living not our own life, but a life approved by others. But “good” isn’t always sincere. And without sincerity, there’s no love, respect, or peace.

The first step toward self-improvement is admitting: I’m tired of being “good.” This isn’t selfishness. It’s fatigue from wearing a mask. You notice: after meeting with friends, you’re exhausted—not because they’re bad, but because you spent the entire evening playing the role of “the one they love.” This is emotional burnout through self-suppression.

The second step is to separate “good” from “right.” Being good means pleasing. Being right means being honest. Sometimes honesty feels “rude.” But it’s the foundation of healthy relationships. Because true intimacy is only possible between real people, not between roles.

Third, start with a small “no.” Don’t argue with your boss. Don’t blame your mother. Just say, “I can’t help today.” Or, “I don’t like that tone.” This isn’t aggression. It’s setting boundaries. And every time you do this, you reclaim a piece of your soul.

Fourth, stop being afraid of falling out of love. Yes, someone may distance themselves. But that’s not your loss. It’s the natural selection of relationships. Those who loved you only for your “good behavior” didn’t love you—they loved your mask. And those who stay will love the real you.

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