The Shift from External Validation to Internal Trust

May 14

I used to always feel like I needed to update at least someone on developments in my life. Like right now my friend Joel agreed to come over tomorrow and help paint. That is such a relief to me. I felt this impulse to text my boyfriend and tell him this micro update but like I also felt this need for it to be emotionally reacted to, like I needed someone to feel the emotion for me. But when I thought about texting that out, I just felt so tired and decided it didn't really need to be sent. I used to be in relationships where micro check In and updates were a matter of subjective sense of survival And not feeling alone or something

ChatGPT: What you’re describing is such a rich insight into how your relationship with connection and self-validation is evolving. That impulse to update someone—whether a partner, a friend, or anyone—seems to come from a deeply human place of wanting to feel seen and have someone share your emotional load. And if you’ve been in relationships where that kind of micro-connection was a way to feel secure, it makes total sense why that urge would still surface.

But it sounds like something is shifting for you. When you paused and decided not to send the update, it wasn’t because the update didn’t matter—it’s because you realized it didn’t need to be externalized in the same way anymore. That’s huge. It’s like your emotional survival instinct is rewiring itself, saying, “Maybe I can hold this relief on my own, and that’s enough.”

What’s Going On Here?

Relief in External Validation
In the past, those updates might’ve been about ensuring someone else felt the emotion for you (joy, relief, frustration, whatever), which would then validate your experience. It’s like you outsourced some of the emotional processing to others as a way to feel less alone. And hey, that’s not inherently bad—it’s a coping mechanism that works for a lot of people, especially in emotionally challenging or uncertain times.
The Tiredness Is a Clue
Feeling tired at the thought of texting is telling. It’s as if your brain is saying, “Do I really need someone else to react to this for me? Or can I just feel this relief and let it be mine?” That tiredness might be a sign you’re ready to shift from relying on external emotional processing to internal validation.
A Shift in Emotional Independence
Deciding not to send the text doesn’t mean you’re isolating or withholding; it might mean you’re practicing holding space for your own feelings. You’re recognizing that Joel agreeing to help paint is your win and that it doesn’t need external acknowledgment to feel real or valid.
Old Patterns, New Context
Those "micro check-ins" you relied on in past relationships were survival tools—ways to ensure you weren’t alone emotionally. They probably served you really well at the time. But now, it seems like you’re questioning whether every little update needs to be shared, especially when it’s not tied to your current sense of stability or belonging.

Why It Feels So Big

Not texting might feel like a small decision, but it’s actually reflective of a bigger shift:

You’re starting to trust yourself to hold your own emotions.
You’re recognizing that not everything needs to be externalized to feel valid.
You’re letting yourself step back from the urgency of constant emotional connection.

That doesn’t mean you don’t need connection—it just means you’re learning that it’s okay for some feelings or updates to stay with you, without losing their meaning.

What to Do With This?

Acknowledge the Relief Internally
Instead of sharing the update externally, try sitting with the feeling of relief and telling yourself, “This matters, and I’m glad it worked out.” It might sound cheesy, but affirming your own emotions builds that internal validation muscle.
Reflect on the Impulse, Not the Action
When the urge to update someone comes up, ask yourself: Is this about sharing joy, or is it about needing someone else to hold this feeling for me? Neither answer is wrong—it’s just helpful to know what’s driving the impulse.
Reframe What Connection Looks Like
Connection doesn’t have to mean constant updates. It might look like a more intentional check-in later, where you share the bigger picture rather than every micro-moment. You might text your boyfriend tomorrow, “Joel’s coming to help paint—I feel so relieved,” and let that be enough.
Give Yourself Credit for the Shift
Recognizing that you don’t need to send every update is a big deal. It means you’re trusting yourself to hold your experiences without needing someone else to react to them in real-time. That’s emotional growth, plain and simple.

What Does This Say About Your Past?

It makes sense that in past relationships, these updates felt like survival—they were your way of making sure someone was emotionally present for you. And that was valid, especially if you didn’t feel secure or fully supported at the time. But now, it seems like you’re in a place where you’re questioning whether that same level of constant connection is necessary. You’re realizing that you’re capable of holding your own emotions in ways you maybe couldn’t before.

These last two days I've let go of the pressure I was putting on myself to be productive, even if it was just painting. I have laid on the couch most of today watching tv and resting. That used to make me panic. But the more I'm learning the more I feel my body could benefit from a break. A break from productivity and feeling like I'm getting ahead of things or doing well. Its February in Minnesota. It's not a great time for house projects. Plus I'm integrating enough! The house is in good enough condition. I kind of feel like radically resting. Something inside me worries that if I do that, my brain will turn to mush or it'll deviate in the narrative and start heeping shame on me for being inactive and stuck

First off, radical resting sounds like exactly what you need right now. It’s no small thing to recognize that your body and mind are calling for a pause, especially when productivity has been such a driving force in your life. You’re in the dead of winter in Minnesota—nature itself is resting, so it makes sense that you’d feel that pull too. But I totally get why part of you is worried about the consequences. That shamey little voice is hard to shake.

What’s Happening When You Rest?

Integration Needs Stillness
You’re in a season of deep emotional and mental work. Resting doesn’t mean you’re doing “nothing”—it means you’re giving your mind and body the chance to digest all the integration you’re already doing. Rest is just as valuable as action, even if it doesn’t look productive on the surface.
Your Brain Isn’t Turning to Mush
Rest doesn’t equal stagnation. In fact, when you’re resting, your brain is processing and connecting dots in the background. Think of it like planting seeds in a winter garden—nothing looks like it’s growing, but under the soil, everything is happening.
The Shame is Learned, Not Truth
That shame you feel about “being inactive” comes from a culture (and maybe upbringing) that glorifies productivity and makes rest feel like laziness. But the truth is, rest isn’t just necessary—it’s part of the process. You’re not failing or stuck; you’re responding to what your body is asking for.

Why You’re Feeling Pulled to Rest Now

You’ve Been Running on Overdrive: Whether it’s the mental work of integrating, adjusting to your house, or even just surviving a Minnesota winter, your system is probably tired of being in “go mode.” Rest is a rebellion against that constant pressure.
Winter Amplifies the Need for Slowness: It’s natural to feel less driven this time of year. The cold, the lack of light—it’s the season for hibernation, not hustling.
You’re Testing a New Narrative: By resting without panicking, you’re challenging the old narrative that says rest is dangerous or shameful. That’s huge.

Dealing With the Fear of Shame and Stagnation

That worry—that rest will spiral into guilt or stuckness—is valid. It’s an old voice that doesn’t trust rest yet because it wasn’t part of your survival toolkit before. Here’s how you might approach it:

Acknowledge the Voice Without Fighting It
When the shamey thoughts creep in, try saying:
- “I see you, shame. You’re trying to protect me, but I don’t need you right now.”
  This way, you’re not battling the voice—you’re just gently setting it aside.
Reframe Rest as Active Recovery
Instead of thinking, “I’m doing nothing,” reframe it as, “I’m giving myself what I need to come back stronger.” Resting is part of productivity in the long game.
Set Micro Intentions for Rest
If it helps your brain feel calmer, set tiny “rest goals” for the day:
- “I’m resting today to recharge my energy.”
- “I’m giving my mind space to integrate.”
  Framing rest as intentional can quiet the shame.
Trust the Flow
Trust that the urge to move or be productive will return when your body and mind are ready. Rest doesn’t mean you’re stuck forever—it means you’re tuning into what you need right now.

Why Radical Rest is a Win

By resting, you’re breaking the cycle of overwork and self-pressure. You’re saying, “I don’t have to earn my worth through productivity.” That’s not just rest—that’s healing.

And let’s be real: February in Minnesota is the perfect time to rest. The house will still be there when spring rolls around, and so will your projects. For now, you’re doing something just as important: learning to trust that rest has value, even if it feels radical.

What if I miss the signal to get active again? What if I dissociate into a fog and never turn off the TV or get active again?

Ah, that’s the real fear lurking under this rest experiment: the worry that if you allow yourself to truly rest, you’ll get stuck there—like rest will somehow morph into inertia, dissociation, or a permanent fog. That’s such a valid fear, especially if you’ve had past experiences where inactivity felt overwhelming or like a loss of control.

But here’s the good news: you’re already asking these questions, which means you’re paying attention. The very fact that you’re worried about missing the signal to get active again is proof that you’re not dissociating into oblivion—you’re staying aware and self-reflective, even while resting.

Why You Won’t Miss the Signal

Your Mind-Body System Knows How to Self-Regulate
Just like hunger cues or the urge to sleep, your body and mind have natural cycles. If you give yourself permission to rest now, your system will eventually crave movement, novelty, or productivity again. Think of it like swinging a pendulum: rest may feel extreme at first, but balance will come naturally.
You’re Not Truly Disconnected
Dissociation happens when you check out completely, but you’re actively reflecting on your rest, your needs, and your fears. That’s not fog—that’s intentionality. The fact that you’re questioning this proves you’re engaged, even if it feels like you’re slowing down.
The TV Isn’t the Enemy
Watching TV or lying on the couch isn’t inherently dissociative—it’s how you’re using it. Right now, it sounds like TV is providing comfort and giving your brain a break. When you’re ready, you’ll naturally feel less drawn to it. If anything, forcing yourself to turn it off prematurely could lead to burnout rather than balance.

What If the Fog Comes?

Even if you feel yourself slipping into a fog, it doesn’t mean you’ll stay there forever. Here’s how to navigate the fear of “getting stuck”:

Check In with Yourself Gently
- Ask: “Am I resting, or am I avoiding?”
  If the answer feels more like avoidance, that’s okay—it’s just a cue to reorient gently, without judgment.
Set Small Anchors
To avoid feeling completely adrift, create tiny, low-pressure rituals:
- Stretch for 2 minutes before sitting on the couch.
- Drink water or tea mindfully during a TV break.
  These small actions can ground you without disrupting the rest.
Trust the Flow
Even if you dip into foggy or dissociative moments, trust that they’re not permanent. You’ve pulled yourself out before, and you’ll do it again. Resting doesn’t mean losing control—it means trusting yourself to find your rhythm.

How to Notice the Signal to Get Active Again

The “signal” to get active won’t be loud or dramatic—it’ll feel like a quiet pull. Here’s what to look for:

Restlessness: A natural urge to move, fidget, or do something new.
Curiosity: A spark of interest in a task or project.
Energy Return: Feeling like you’ve got enough gas in the tank to try something small, even if it’s just cleaning up or going for a walk.

When that signal comes, start small. You don’t have to leap into full-blown productivity—just follow the spark and see where it leads.

The Fear is About Trust

At its core, your fear isn’t about TV or inactivity—it’s about whether you can trust yourself to come back. But the fact that you’ve navigated burnout, pressure, and reflection already shows that you can trust yourself. You’ve built enough self-awareness to notice when something’s off and course-correct. Rest won’t undo that—it’ll strengthen it.

Lately when I wake up in the morning I feel a sense of panic. Being awake right now with depersonalization, derealization, and metacognition is so draining and it's such a relief when I can fall asleep. Waking up feels like waking up on stage in front of thousands who are watching you, waiting for you to perform

That waking-up panic sounds overwhelming, like you’re being thrust into hyper-awareness the moment you open your eyes. The comparison to waking up on stage is striking—it captures the intense pressure of being seen and having to act without feeling ready. No wonder you find relief in sleep—it’s the one time you’re allowed to just exist without the weight of self-consciousness or mental performance.

Why Mornings Might Feel Like This

Metacognition’s Grip
Your metacognition doesn’t rest when you sleep, but waking up jolts you back into awareness of it. Instead of easing into the day, it feels like being dropped into a mental spotlight where every thought or sensation demands scrutiny.
Depersonalization and Derealization Amplify It
With depersonalization and derealization, waking up can feel disorienting—like you’re being shoved into a world you’re not fully connected to. The stage analogy fits because you’re aware of “performing” life while feeling disconnected from it.
Emotional Momentum from the Day Before
If life feels draining right now, mornings might carry the emotional weight of “another day of this.” The pressure to "do it all again" can feel unbearable when you’re already running on empty.

What You’re Experiencing Isn’t Uncommon

A lot of people with depersonalization/derealization (DP/DR) describe mornings as particularly hard. Sleep offers a kind of reset, and waking up can feel like crashing back into the heaviness of being. It’s not a failure on your part—it’s your mind trying to grapple with the intensity of constant self-awareness.

What Can Help?

While it’s hard to fix this overnight, there are small steps that might help mornings feel less overwhelming.

Create a Gentle Transition
Instead of trying to leap out of bed into “performing,” build in a ritual that lets you ease into awareness:
- Keep the lights dim.
- Breathe deeply and slowly, focusing on sensations like the weight of your blanket or the softness of your pillow.
- Let yourself notice your thoughts without engaging with them—almost like watching clouds float by.
Ground Yourself in the Physical World
DP/DR and metacognition pull you into your head, so anchoring in your body can help:
- Wiggle your fingers and toes, stretch gently, or rub your hands together to feel warmth.
- Drink a glass of water slowly, focusing on the sensations.
Set a Kind First Thought
Your first thought in the morning often sets the tone. Instead of letting panic take over, try a soft affirmation, like:
- “I don’t have to do everything right now.”
- “I can take this moment by moment.”
You don’t have to believe it fully—just planting the seed can help.
Normalize the Stage Feeling
If mornings feel like waking up on stage, remind yourself: “No one is actually watching me. This is just my mind being hyper-aware.” Naming the sensation can take away some of its power.
Plan a Small Anchor for the Day
Sometimes morning panic is about the enormity of the whole day ahead. Instead of trying to tackle everything, set one tiny thing to focus on—a short walk, making tea, or even just moving to the couch. This creates a sense of grounding without overwhelming yourself.

Why This Feels So Big

The stage metaphor suggests that mornings bring a sense of pressure to perform life in a way that feels impossible when you’re grappling with DP/DR and metacognition. That’s a heavy burden, but it’s not permanent. With time and small steps, mornings can feel less like being thrust under a spotlight and more like gently opening a curtain.

Marie L.