Courage in the Quiet of Disapproval

In moments of introspection, especially when faced with a personal crossroads, I often find myself grappling with a deceptively simple question: What will others think of me? It’s a question rooted in an innate need for validation—a longing to be seen through the lens of socially accepted moral integrity. While this is a valid and important perspective to consider, it contains a paradox: the pursuit of approval often ensnares us, clouding our intentions and preventing the expression of our true selves. For those of us driven by creativity, this fear can be particularly powerful. Creativity demands vulnerability, a willingness to expose our innermost thoughts, feelings, and visions to the world. The desire for approval can distort the creative process, compelling us to make compromises in our work in order to meet societal expectations or cater to others’ tastes. Yet, I believe that true artistic expression—the kind that has the potential to resonate authentically with others—is best serviced when we release the need for validation.

The Social Framework of Approval

The fear of being disliked is a primal, socio-anthropological instinct ingrained in us over millennia. Rooted in our need for survival within social groups, this fear once protected us from isolation and danger. As societies evolved, so did the concept of morality, transforming into complex frameworks reinforced by religious and political superstructures. These moral codes, often linked to notions of divine or righteous judgment, became tools for controlling behavior and securing social order. However, they also served as instruments of division and justification for violence, leading to some of humanity’s most brutal and senseless conflicts—conflicts that persist today and show no sign of abating in the foreseeable future.

While physical ostracism may no longer carry the same life-or-death consequences, the psychological imprint of this fear endures, driving us to seek approval and avoid criticism. Yet, transcending this fear requires more than personal courage; it requires a rethinking of our place within these fractured frameworks. True fulfillment arises not from external validation, but from embracing our authentic selves, free from the moral judgments imposed by societal constructs.

In today’s world, we see a similar phenomenon unfolding within frameworks like DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) and what is colloquially referred to as “woke” culture. Though morally well-intended, these movements, in their evolution, have begun to show signs of becoming rigid and formalized, mirroring the very moral systems they sought to challenge and update. As these frameworks solidify into structured bureaucratic systems, bolstered and encumbered by legal codifications, they risk becoming another form of societal judgment, perpetuating the same cycle of moral dogma that has historically stifled true freedom and self-expression. The challenge, then, is to move beyond the need for approval—whether from traditional or contemporary frameworks—and embrace a form of self-actualization that is genuinely liberated from the judgment of others.

A Pinned Philosophy

While exploring and researching these feelings and ideas, I homed in on Alfred Adler, a pioneering psychologist in the early 20th century, one of the first to articulate the psychological foundations of this concept. Born in 1870 in Vienna, Adler’s early experiences shaped his theories. He was plagued by a series of health challenges in his childhood, including rickets, which left him feeling inferior to his peers. This sense of inferiority became the foundation of his life’s work. Adler came to believe that all human beings have a fundamental desire to overcome feelings of inadequacy, a desire that drives our actions and motivations.

Adler’s philosophy of individual psychology is grounded in the belief that our primary goal in life is to overcome perceived weaknesses and contribute meaningfully to society. He argued that true psychological health lies in our ability to act in alignment with our own values and goals, rather than seeking the approval of others. For Adler, personal agency—the power to shape our lives independently of societal expectations—was the cornerstone of fulfillment. True happiness, he believed, is not found in external validation but in living a life that reflects our unique sense of purpose.

The Courage to Reclaim Authenticity

With this in mind, I’d like to share a personal and vulnerable aspect of my growth—one that has reshaped my outlook and approach to the world. I was raised in a loving, Spanish, mostly Catholic, multigenerational family that emigrated to Canada. Growing up, I often felt culturally isolated, never fully integrating with my Canadian friends and neighbors. This sense of isolation nurtured a deep longing for cosmopolitan experiences and adventures—those that promise new encounters and enriching opportunities. These desires were intertwined with the traditional ideal that such journeys would be most meaningful when shared with an intimate partner. For much of my adult life, I believed that travel would be incomplete unless I had someone by my side to share in the discovery. It seemed like a perfectly natural belief—after all, what is an adventure if it’s not experienced together? Over the years, I traveled through Europe and the Americas, always intending to bring someone close along for the ride. I convinced myself that sharing these experiences would not only enrich the journey but also strengthen the relationship. Personally, I felt the adventure wouldn’t be quite as fulfilling without someone to share it with.

There was an underlying fear that drove this intention, one I often expressed to my partners and friends, that if I didn’t make the effort to include someone, I might end up wandering the world alone as an elderly man, disconnected and pathetically adrift. This fear felt real, even existential, as though my experiences would lose their value if they weren’t shared. Over time, however, I began to recognize a quieter truth: my desire to share wasn’t really about the experience itself, but about an unconscious need for validation. This realization emerged through several relationships with different individuals. At times, my partner wasn’t as invested in the trip as I was, and I began to see that I wasn’t always sharing authentically. Instead, I was trying to fulfill an image of what a trip “should” look like, based on the fear that being alone would somehow make me incomplete. Some of these trips ended poorly, and relationships, too, faltered, as the very thing I feared seemed to unfold.

Eventually, I grew to challenge this fear and began to travel alone. What started as brief trips lasting a few weeks slowly evolved into journeys that spanned months at a time. As I spent more time in new places, I began to viscerally feel the effects of solitude and, perhaps more importantly, learned to make use of it. By immersing myself in unfamiliar surroundings with the sole purpose of experiencing them on my own terms—researching, learning about the culture, and confidently engaging with new people and environments. I worked on letting go of the belief that I needed to share my life with an intimate someone to validate it. This took time, commitment and resourceful thinking. Driven by the desire to deconstruct the fear of loneliness and recreate the framework I’d spent a life living.

The results have been rewarding: not only did I find new friends in new lands, but I also discovered a deeper sense of self-worth. I found a self-awareness and confidence that had always been within me, but had been clouded by the fear of judgment and the need for external validation. Along this journey, I began reading much more frequently with a pointed intention—to challenge my existing ideas and provoke deeper reflection in order to reach more thoughtful conclusions. This shift in my approach to reading has sharpened my language skills, helping me communicate more precisely and meaningfully. My cultural adaptability also grew, as I embraced the diversity of experiences and perspectives I encountered in each new place. Additionally, I ventured into new creative outlets, learning and practicing skills I had not fully explored before, like writing. Embracing these artistic expressions has allowed me to channel my thoughts and emotions into a tangible form, further enriching my understanding of myself.

These experiences are not only part of my personal journey but also possibilities that other artists may recognize in their own creative paths. Whether it’s the struggle for self-expression, the search for authenticity, or the pursuit of artistic growth, many of us face similar challenges. These parallel journeys invite us to consider how embracing new perspectives, taking risks, and exploring different outlets can lead to profound (and sometimes unexpected) self-discovery. In sharing this, I hope other artists see the potential to expand their own creative landscapes, just as I have.

The occasional feeling of solitude still arises, but it is no longer a fear—it has become a natural part of the ebb and flow of a healthy emotional life. I’ve come to accept this as a more appropriate interpretation of life’s complexities than the simplistic notion of “happiness.” This deeper, more nuanced sense of fulfillment has emerged as I have learned to live authentically and embrace both the quiet moments and the vibrant ones in equal measure.

Letting Go

I’m reminded of the work of Carlos Castaneda, particularly his book Journey to Ixtlan, which has had a lasting influence on how I reflect upon my own path. Part of a series that blends anthropology with mysticism, this final installment takes place in the deserts of northern Mexico, where Castaneda, a student of the Yaqui shaman Don Juan Matus, embarks on a journey that forces him to confront his assumptions about the world, himself, and the very nature of his perception. Born in 1925, Castaneda initially set out to study anthropology, but his experiences with Don Juan, who challenged his intellectual and spiritual limitations, ultimately led him down a path of self-discovery that defied conventional understanding. His work is a profound exploration of how deeply ingrained beliefs and societal expectations shape our lives, offering a unique perspective on personal transformation.

One of the key lessons Don Juan imparts is the importance of shedding one’s ego—the need for validation and control—and stepping into a realm where freedom arises from the willingness to relinquish attachments to the self.

I can’t help but see the parallel with some of my own experiences. The belief that I needed to share my experiences to validate their worth, that my identity was shaped by the approval of others, was a form of “ego,” not unlike the limiting ideas Castaneda clung to in the beginning. Throughout Castaneda’s journey he learns that true freedom comes not from seeking validation but from the courage to walk his path alone, untethered from social or preconceived expectations.

Freedom is Self-Expression

Ultimately, the courage to embrace being disliked and to transcend the need for external validation is not simply an act of rebellion against society or the dismissal of intimate relationships, but a general and necessary step toward self-actualization. Whether as an artist, a creative spirit, or simply a person navigating today’s complicated world, the process of shedding fear and judgment opens the door to living authentically. For the artist, creation is deeply personal—it requires vulnerability and the willingness to face discomfort. True artistic expression, the kind that resonates and can make an emotional impact, can only come when we stop compromising for the approval of others. It is in this freedom to create without fear that we unlock our truest form of expression, bringing our ideas and experiences to life in a way that’s uniquely our own.

The fear of being disliked may have once served a survival function, but today it often acts as a barrier to growth and creativity. This fear is embedded in the moral frameworks we construct, from traditional systems to modern socio-cultural ones. Ultimately, the courage to be disliked isn’t about rejecting society or others; it’s about fully embracing who we are without conforming. It’s about shedding the fear of judgment that prevents us from being authentic and creative. When we free ourselves from these limitations, we open the door to greater self-awareness, creative freedom, and a life lived on our own terms. This path leads to a deeper connection with our true essence, unburdened by the need for approval, allowing us to become the people and artists we are meant to be.