Validation is not the problem. When it comes from the right place — from within — it is one of the most powerful tools we have. It allows us to reflect, to self-correct, and to understand who we are and what we stand for.
When we begin asking: Am I doing this right? Do I look how I’m supposed to? Am I where I should be by now? Not according to ourselves — but according to everyone else.
External validation rarely feels dangerous. It feels normal. It shows up in small, familiar ways: wanting to fit in, following trends without questioning them, measuring your life against others, quietly adjusting yourself to avoid standing out. And before you realise it, you’re no longer learning who you are — you’re learning how to perform who you think you should be.
For me, this started early. No one explicitly told me I had to change, but I absorbed the standard anyway. Hairless arms. Perfect eyebrows. Not too enthusiastic. Not too “keen”. Don’t try too hard. Don’t stand out too much. So I adjusted. I changed things about my appearance before I ever asked myself if they mattered to me. I softened parts of my personality before I even understood them. Not because I believed these things — but because I believed I should.
It seems to me that the soul when it thinks is simply carrying on a discussion in which it asks itself questions and answers them itself.
As we get older, this doesn’t disappear — it just evolves. Instead of appearance, it becomes life milestones. You start to notice the same quiet expectations:
We treat these milestones as if they are universal markers of progress, as though they objectively measure a life well lived. And when someone doesn’t meet them, we assume something must be wrong. But what we actually struggle with is not difference — it’s unexplained difference. We’re comfortable when people don’t follow the path as long as they give us a reason we can understand. What we find harder to accept is something much simpler: what if they just don’t want what you want? What if the person living at home is exactly where they want to be? What if the person who is single prefers it that way? What if the one who “hasn’t figured it out” is not lost, but exploring? Not as a phase. Not as a compromise. But as a choice.
This is where philosophy becomes more than theory — it becomes practical. Ancient Greek philosophy, particularly Plato, draws a distinction between appearance and reality: between what we see and what is actually true. If you’ve read any other Golden Ladder blog posts, you may have noticed this recurring theme. What we experience through our senses — what we see others doing, what culture reinforces, what is common — feels real. But it is often just appearance shaped by context: trends, norms, expectations, time and place. What is common is not the same as what is true. To understand reality — including who we are and how we should live — we cannot rely on what simply appears to be right. We have to think. We have to question. We have to step back from what is presented to us and ask: Do I actually believe this, or have I just absorbed it?
When you begin to do this, something shifts. You start to see the difference between what you want and what you’ve been taught to want, between what feels right and what simply looks right. And slowly, the need for external validation begins to weaken.
For me, this shift didn’t happen overnight — but once it began, it was genuinely freeing. Philosophy gave me a way to step back from everything I had absorbed without question and look at it properly. It helped me realise that so many of the standards I was trying to meet — in how I looked, how I behaved, even how I understood parts of my identity — weren’t things I had ever consciously chosen for myself. And in questioning them, I started to feel something I hadn’t felt before — a sense of ownership. Of deciding who I am and what I value on my own terms. There’s something incredibly empowering about that.
Letting go of external validation is not just about confidence — it’s about responsibility. Because once you stop outsourcing your standards, there is no one left to defer to. You have to decide what matters, what doesn’t, and what a “good life” actually looks like for you. And that is harder than following a script. But it is also the only way to live something real. External validation confuses two very different things: what others expect of you, and what you expect of yourself.
Most people are unaware that they do not know what each thing really is. So then, assuming that they know what it is, they fail to reach agreement about it at the beginning of their enquiry, and, having gone forward on this basis, they pay the penalty one would expect: they agree neither with themselves nor with each other
External validation builds an image. Self-validation builds a person.
So instead of asking, “Am I doing this right?” ask, “Is this actually mine?” Because the version of you that exists to meet expectations will never feel as real — or as valuable — as the version of you that you consciously choose.
