From an early age, validation becomes a powerful force in shaping how we see ourselves. It can be a warm acknowledgement of our value or a desperate need, driving us to prove our worth again and again. But is seeking validation truly a desire for connection, or does it often reflect deeper, unresolved wounds?
For many, the line blurs. Validation can offer comfort, temporarily easing self-doubt or fulfilling the urge to belong. However, when tied to trauma or past conditioning, it transforms into something else: a survival mechanism, a way to shield ourselves from pain, even if momentarily. This article explores how the need for validation can evolve into a cycle deeply rooted in early experiences and how I’ve worked to find a balance.
The Early Foundations and the Impact of Parental Expectations
My need for validation started young, within the rigid boundaries of schooling. School wasn’t just a place to learn for me; it was also a testing ground for my worth in my father’s eyes. I struggled with academics, which set the stage for my father’s anger. Report cards and school reports became triggers for physical, mental, and emotional abuse. His anger wasn’t just about my performance—it was a reaction to his own past. We attended the same elementary school and even shared some of the same teachers. I realize now that my struggles reminded him of his own; he didn’t know how to process this, so he lashed out, directing his frustration at me.
These experiences left scars, attaching the need for validation to my sense of safety. I wanted so desperately to please him, to see a different expression on his face than the disappointment I had grown used to. For many of us, the desire to seek approval from parents is intense, especially when love seems to hinge on success or outward achievements. Over time, validation wasn’t just about pleasing him—it was about protecting myself from the consequences of not measuring up.
As an INFJ with heightened sensitivity, introspection, and empathy, I was acutely aware of my father’s moods. I could sense when his temper would flare, and I would brace myself, often questioning how to prevent it from happening. This led to a deep internalization of my need for validation as a way to stay safe. In my mind, if I could gain his approval, I might be spared the pain that came with his anger. My sensitivity and desire to connect with others grew into an all-consuming need to be accepted and acknowledged. Validation became a way of managing conflict or harm, a shield that made me feel like I belonged, even if only momentarily.
The abuse I experienced didn’t just stop at physical pain—it rewired how I saw myself. Each report card or school comparison eroded my self-worth further. Validation became a survival mechanism, a way of momentarily convincing myself that I had value. I longed for a sense of security that I could never quite grasp, and so my self-esteem came to hinge entirely on the approval of others. Attending the same school as my father brought added weight. The pressure of his unmet expectations, coupled with my perceived inadequacies, left me feeling like I was constantly under a microscope. I wasn’t just trying to pass my classes—I was trying to overcome his judgment and somehow rewrite his narrative of me. Which I think was always impossible, as I was weak on all levels of his judgment: physically, academically, and emotionally (due to his constant abuse).
High School, Rejection, and Compounded Struggles
If elementary school had laid the groundwork for seeking validation, high school was where it compounded. Just before I entered high school, my parents divorced, and my father quickly moved on, with a new 19-year-old girlfriend who had just graduated from the very school I was about to enter. This development overshadowed my first years of high school, as I struggled to process the feeling of rejection—not only of my mother but of myself as well. My father’s rejection cut deeply, impacting my sense of worth and self-esteem.
On the other hand, with him no longer in my life, the physical and mental abuse stopped. Although there was relief in being free from his control, it left me lost, unsure of who I was. Without his harsh presence, I realized I lacked any solid sense of self, and the search for validation only intensified. High school became a place where bullying was a constant companion, adding yet another layer to this trauma. Every day, I faced ridicule, reinforcing the idea that I was somehow unworthy. The way others saw me began to dominate my sense of self, deepening my need for approval to feel even a glimmer of worth.
In the academic setting, attending university was the goal of nearly every student around me. It was not just encouraged but considered both normal and expected to attend. When the time came, I was accepted to all four universities I applied to, yet my deep-seated fear of scarcity and lack of self-worth influenced my decision. I chose the local university—the cheapest option—despite broader possibilities. To afford my education, I relied on student loans, taking on a financial weight that mirrored my internalized fears of not having or being “enough.”
Adulthood and Attempts to Break Free
As a young adult, I’ve found that this cycle is difficult to escape. Early experiences left an imprint that carried over into relationships, work, and even my creative projects. Untangling genuine connections from the deep-seated need for validation has been one of the hardest challenges I’ve faced.
One defining attempt to seek validation and acceptance was my decision to join the military and the Canadian Naval Reserve. I thought the military could be a place where I’d finally find a tribe, a sense of acceptance. But the experience backfired. I was injured during basic training, and the emotional weight of childhood trauma resurfaced, leading to debilitating panic attacks. It became clear that joining the military hadn’t fulfilled my need for validation; instead, it had reopened old wounds, amplifying my struggles to find a place where I truly belonged.
Shifting Perspectives: The Ongoing Journey Toward Self-Validation
Over time, I’ve had to confront the reality that self-worth doesn’t have to rely on others’ approval. Learning self-validation has been an uphill journey, but it’s one I’m committed to. Practices like self-reflection, trauma work, and self-compassion have started to reshape how I see myself. I no longer need to wait for others to tell me that I’m worthy; instead, I’m learning to believe it on my own.
It’s not easy to replace years of conditioning, but I’ve come to understand that self-validation is a practice, not a destination. Each day, I try to find ways to validate my own experiences, and my own worth, without relying on the often-fleeting opinions of others. I still find myself with a deep desire to be understood, to be deemed worthy, and to have that external validation to bring light to chase away the darkness of my past. Now that I can identify the reasons, motivations, and desire to seek external validation, it allows me to sit with the emotions and work through them to the point of release. I am able to stand on my boundaries and reinforce my commitment to my authentic self, how I want to show up in the world, and how I want to help others.
Conclusion: A Journey Toward True Self-Acceptance
As I continue this journey, I’m learning that understanding my past is essential to breaking the cycle of seeking validation. Only by acknowledging the depth of my wounds can I truly start to heal them. The journey toward self-acceptance is ongoing, but every step I take brings me closer to a sense of worth that is no longer tied to the opinions of others.
The value of validation lies in its ability to make us feel seen. But when that need stems from unresolved pain, it can become a burden, holding us back from genuine self-worth. By addressing my past and reshaping my relationship with validation, I’m learning that my worth doesn’t need to be confirmed by anyone else. It’s a truth I’m uncovering for myself.
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