Stop Trying to Be Liked - It’s Destroying Your Confidence

 Working from home has its advantages—messy buns, yoga pants, and slippers. But it can get lonely watching the rest of your family come and go while you're stuck between four walls, isolated in a picturesque rainforest, with no phone reception and living through your computer screen.

I missed seeing people in the flesh, having conversations that didn’t revolve around work, and wanted to break my habit of becoming easily distracted by household chores.

When I put my mind to it, I have a strong work ethic and self-discipline, but I needed to mix things up. So, I decided to head to the hip and happening beachside town close by, filled with ambitious entrepreneurs and start-ups, to work alongside them in a co-working space. I knew if I sat in a room with people, I would be more productive. Plus, I might make some new friends.

Each Tuesday at the co-working space, I was surprised by how much I could get done. The energy in the room was infectious—everyone was creative, driven, and going places. They were connected to the local scene in ways I wasn’t, thanks to my isolated dream house in the rainforest. However, I became great friends with Kate over the months. We ate lunch together at the vegan place across the street and grabbed each other coffee in the mornings.

Eventually, we started going out together—to local events, for a cheeky beer after work (yes, even on a Tuesday), including the co-working Christmas party where we danced the night away.

She was my escape from mum life into adult land and a reason to get dressed properly in the morning.

The Moment That Made Me Question Everything

One morning, I walked through the doors of the co-working space and noticed everyone engrossed in a conversation. Kate, glamorous as always, was in her usual spot, coffee in hand, leading a discussion about personality types after listening to a podcast over the weekend.

I leaned in with curiosity. “Tell me more.”

She began listing off traits that described her perfectly, and one in particular landed hard.

“My home life and family are enough for me. I don’t need loads of people in my life.”

I jumped in immediately with a joke. “Oh, and just me. We are best mates.”

She smiled and suggested I do the quiz to find out my own type.

Taking the test, I quickly discovered that while Kate and I shared similar traits, I was more extroverted. I thrived as the life of the party. I loved people, community, and leading the way—no surprise there. Kate, on the other hand, was more of a behind-the-scenes person, happy to do things alone.

It took me a few moments to reflect and see the truth in that.

But then, a big burning question hit me.

Does this mean she doesn’t need me?

My inner people-pleaser’s worst nightmare was playing out in front of me. And, instead of sitting with the discomfort, I jumped in with a joke to hide the emotional sting. Why the hell did I do that?

The Spiral of Self-Doubt

I left that day questioning everything.

• Do I rely on other people to fill me up?

• Why was I so quick to jump in and validate our friendship?

• Why didn’t she say she wanted me in her life?

• How can I prove I’m a worthy friend?

I hung onto these thoughts, overanalysing every interaction. My mind went into overdrive, digging through my past for answers. The worst part? I knew exactly where it all stemmed from—Stacey, back in school, over that stupid bowl of popcorn. The fear of someone not liking me was still dictating my actions.

Every time I walked into the co-working space after that, I tried to play it cool. But in reality, I was investigating my own emotions, trying to work out why this had shaken me so much. I was playing detective with my own trauma.

It spiralled. Kate’s comment had triggered something deep within me. I started second-guessing myself. She doesn’t like me. I’m too much. I’m not enough.

And when I feel like that, my default is survival mode. Smile. Wave. Act like nothing’s wrong.

Kate was an incredible person. I saw myself in her. She inspired me to be better. And yet, I was trying so hard for her to like me that I kept putting myself through endless encounters of discomfort just to prove something—to myself, to her, to some imaginary scoreboard keeping track of my worth.

The Wake-Up Call

Then, one day, while driving back to the co-working space, a moment of clarity hit me.

I don’t need people to like me to be worthy.

The truth is, I do love people. They fill me up. They give me energy—the right people. Do I rely on them? No. I take charge of my life, so why was I buying into the idea that Kate’s comment was a rejection of me?

I knew where this wound had come from (hello, old story from over a decade ago), so why was I letting it control me?

I chose to let it go.

I chose to see Kate’s words for what they were—an honest reflection of her, not a commentary on me. She had learned to honour her boundaries and prioritise her family. That was her truth, and it had nothing to do with whether I was a worthy friend.

She wasn’t rejecting me.

She was just living her life.

Then the Real Work Began

Hitting rock bottom in our self-worth is actually an opportunity. It forces us to climb back up, to redefine who we are outside of validation from others.

For me, that meant making some changes.

I stopped feeding my inner critic the story that I wasn’t enough. That no one needed me. That I had to prove my worth through endless effort and over-giving.

Instead, I started focusing on what I wanted. What made me feel good.

And do you know what happened?

I felt lighter.

The guilt, the self-doubt, the inner turmoil—it all started to fade. Because as soon as I stopped letting my inner dialogue dictate my actions, I found clarity.

At the end of the day, the purpose of life isn’t to be liked. It’s to live. Fully. Authentically. Without the chains of people-pleasing weighing us down.

So, if you’re stuck in a loop of over-giving, approval-seeking, and second-guessing your worth based on how others treat you…

It’s time to break free.

Because your confidence is worth more than someone else’s fleeting approval. And the right people? They’ll see you for exactly who you are—without you having to prove a damn thing.

Now, go be unapologetically you.