I’m 37 and I just realized that every major decision I’ve made in my adult life was designed to avoid disappointing people who stopped thinking about me the moment I left the room, and that’s a lesson I wish someone had shoved in my face at 22

by Lachlan Brown | May 13, 2026, 10:53 am

Picture this: You’re at a dinner party, and someone asks what you do for a living. Instead of answering honestly about your passion project or creative dreams, you launch into an explanation about your “stable” corporate job because you don’t want to seem irresponsible.

Sound familiar?

I’ve been there. Hell, I spent years there.

At 37, I finally woke up to a truth that should have been obvious: I’d been living my entire adult life as a supporting character in other people’s stories. Every major decision – from my career choices to where I lived to who I dated – was carefully calibrated to avoid disappointing people who, let’s be honest, probably forgot about me the moment I walked out of the room.

The worst part? Nobody asked me to do this. I appointed myself as the keeper of everyone else’s comfort while completely abandoning my own.

The approval trap that nobody talks about

Here’s what they don’t tell you about people-pleasing: it’s not actually about being nice. It’s about fear.

Fear of judgment. Fear of conflict. Fear of being seen as selfish, irresponsible, or God forbid, disappointing.

I spent my mid-20s feeling lost, anxious, and unfulfilled despite doing everything “right” by conventional standards. Good job? Check. Respectable choices? Check. Parents proud? Double check.

But here’s the kicker – while I was busy collecting gold stars from people whose opinions I thought mattered, I was slowly suffocating under the weight of a life that wasn’t mine.

You know what’s wild? Most of us make our biggest life decisions based on imaginary conversations with people who aren’t even in the room. We choose careers to impress parents who just want us to be happy. We stay in relationships to avoid the awkwardness of a breakup. We say yes to commitments we hate because we’re terrified of being seen as difficult.

And for what? To maintain an image that exists only in our heads?

The moment everything shifted

My wake-up call came during a particularly brutal period at work. I was pulling long days on work I couldn’t care less about, missing time with people I loved, all because I didn’t want to let down a boss who wouldn’t remember my name five years from now.

That’s when it hit me: I was still making decisions like I was auditioning for everyone else’s approval.

The Buddhist concept of “anatta” or non-self suddenly made perfect sense. We create these elaborate personas based on what we think others expect, but these personas aren’t who we really are. They’re just masks we wear to navigate social situations.

But back then, I was living that suffering firsthand.

The truth is, my psychology education had taught me about the mind but not how to actually live well. I knew all the theories about self-actualization and authenticity, but I was still performing my life instead of living it.

The high cost of living for others

Let’s get real about what this actually costs us.

Every time you make a choice to avoid disappointing someone else, you’re essentially saying your dreams, desires, and wellbeing matter less than their potential five-second reaction.

Think about that. Five seconds of their mild disappointment versus years of your regret.

I’ve watched friends stay in soul-crushing jobs because they didn’t want to seem ungrateful. I’ve seen people marry the “right” person on paper while their actual right person slipped away. I’ve witnessed dreams die quiet deaths in the name of not rocking the boat.

The irony? The people we’re trying so hard not to disappoint are usually too busy worrying about their own lives to give our choices more than a passing thought.

Your parents’ friends aren’t lying awake at night thinking about your career pivot. Your ex-boss isn’t pondering your decision to leave the company. That distant relative who made that comment about your life choices at thanksgiving? They forgot about it before dessert was served.

Yet we carry these imaginary expectations like they’re carved in stone.

Why 22-year-old you needed to hear this

If I could grab my 22-year-old self by the shoulders, here’s what I’d say:

Nobody is thinking about you as much as you think they are. And that’s not depressing – it’s liberating.

Young adults are particularly vulnerable to this trap. You’re fresh out of school, where approval and grades literally determined your future. Suddenly you’re in the real world, still operating on that same approval-seeking software, not realizing the game has completely changed.

At 22, you think everyone is watching your every move, judging your choices, keeping score. You think your decisions are being broadcast on some cosmic scoreboard that everyone can see.

They’re not.

Most people are too busy dealing with their own stuff to care whether you choose law school or art school, whether you move to Bangkok or Baltimore, whether you date the person your mom loves or the one who actually gets you.

The principles that saved me in my darkest times are the same ones I now share with millions, and they all come back to this: stop living your life as an apology for existing.

Breaking free from the approval addiction

So how do you actually break this pattern?

First, start noticing when you’re making decisions from fear versus desire. Ask yourself: Am I doing this because I want to, or because I’m afraid of someone’s reaction if I don’t?

Second, practice disappointing people in small ways. Send that text saying you can’t make it to the event you don’t want to attend. Order the meal you actually want at the restaurant, not the one you think makes you look sophisticated. Wear the outfit that makes you feel good, not the one that fits everyone else’s expectations.

Each small act of authentic choice builds your tolerance for other people’s potential disappointment.

Third, remember that disappointment is not destruction. People can be disappointed and still love you. They can disagree with your choices and still respect you. Their momentary reaction is not a verdict on your worth as a human being.

Finally, get clear on whose opinions actually matter. Make a list. I’m serious. Write down the five people whose thoughts about your life genuinely matter to you. Chances are, it’s a much shorter list than the mental jury you’ve been performing for.

Conclusion

At 37, I finally understand something I wish I’d grasped at 22: the price of avoiding disappointment is living a life that disappoints you.

Every choice you make to keep someone else comfortable is a choice against your own authenticity. Every time you shrink yourself to fit someone else’s expectations, you’re telling the universe that your true self isn’t worth taking up space.

The people you’re afraid of disappointing? They’re not thinking about you nearly as much as you imagine. They’re too busy managing their own fears, their own choices, their own desperate attempts not to disappoint others.

So here’s your permission slip, whether you’re 22 or 72: Stop auditioning for approval in your own life. Stop making decisions based on reactions from people who won’t remember them next week. Stop treating your existence like it needs to be justified to some invisible committee.

The lesson I learned too late but not too late to share: The only person you’re guaranteed to spend your entire life with is yourself. Make sure you’re living a life that person actually wants.

Lachlan Brown

Lachlan Brown is an entrepreneur and co-founder of Brown Brothers Media, a digital publishing network reaching tens of millions of readers monthly. He holds a Graduate Diploma of Psychological Studies from Deakin University, though his real education came afterward: a warehouse job shifting TVs, a stretch of anxiety in his mid-twenties, and the slow discovery that studying the mind is not the same as learning how to live well. He started experimenting with Buddhist principles during breaks at the warehouse and eventually began writing about what he was learning. That writing became Hack Spirit, a widely read personal development site, and his book Hidden Secrets of Buddhism became a bestseller. His work breaks down complex ideas into frameworks people can apply immediately, whether they are navigating a career change, a difficult relationship, or the gap between knowing what to do and actually doing it. Lachlan splits his time between Singapore and Saigon. He writes about high-performance routines, decision-making under pressure, digital innovation, and the intersection of Eastern philosophy with modern life. His perspective comes from having built things from scratch, failed at some of them, and learned that clarity comes from practice, not theory.