I was working with someone recently. I’ll call her Ellen.

Ellen had got very good at holding herself back. She didn’t always say what she really thought. She sometimes stayed quiet when she had something useful to add. She could spend far too long replaying conversations afterwards, wondering whether she’d sounded stupid, said too much or somehow got it wrong.

And the strange thing was, nobody had actually told her she wasn’t capable.

She had decided that for them.

A look, a pause, a short reply, someone seeming distracted… and her brain would fill in the rest.

Maybe they don’t think I’m very good at this. Maybe I’ve made myself look stupid. Maybe they’re judging me.

And those thoughts didn’t just stay as thoughts. They affected what she said, what she did, what she put herself forward for and how much of herself she allowed other people to see.

That’s why this matters.

Because sometimes we think the problem is that we’re worried what other people think of us. But actually, we’re reacting to an opinion they may never have had.

As Ellen and I talked, something became really obvious.

She wasn’t telling me what these people thought of her. She was telling me what she thought of herself.

She had taken some very old doubts about whether she was clever enough, capable enough or good enough and quietly put them into somebody else’s head. Then treated them as fact.

And I think far more of us do this than we realise.

Someone doesn’t reply to your message and you immediately wonder if you’ve annoyed them. Someone looks distracted while you’re talking and you think you’re boring them. You walk into a room where everyone seems confident and decide you’re the one who doesn’t belong.

You share an idea and someone doesn’t react enthusiastically enough, so you start questioning whether you should have said anything at all.

None of those things tell you what another person is thinking. They tell you the story your brain has attached to what happened.

One thing worth noticing is how often you mind-read. Listen for thoughts beginning with, “They probably think…” or “I bet they think…” and then ask yourself, “Do I actually know that?”

Also notice whether you search for evidence that confirms what you already believe about yourself. Ten people can tell you that you did a great job, but if one person seems unimpressed, which one are you still thinking about later?

And perhaps the biggest clue is this: are you changing your behaviour because of something nobody has actually said?

Not speaking up. Not putting yourself forward. Over-explaining. Apologising when you don’t need to. Trying desperately to make sure everyone is happy with you.

That’s when an imagined opinion starts having a very real effect on your life.

So I gave Ellen one simple thing to notice.

Whenever she caught herself asking, “What do they think of me?” I wanted her to stop and ask instead, “What do I think of me?”

Because that’s often where the real work is.

This isn’t about convincing yourself everybody likes you. They won’t. It’s about not allowing an opinion that may exist only inside your own head to decide whether you speak up, put yourself forward, try something new or allow yourself to be seen.

So perhaps catch yourself doing it this week.

And when that little voice tells you what somebody else must be thinking about you, ask yourself:

Is that really their voice… or is it mine?

Shirley x