There are so many ways we look outside ourselves for reassurance.
We want someone to notice what we’ve done.
We want to be appreciated.
We want someone to tell us that we’re doing a good job.
We want our partner to understand what we need without having to explain it.
We want our family to recognise how much we do.
We want our boss to see our contribution.
We want someone to say:
That was really good.
I appreciate you.
You’re doing enough.
And there’s nothing wrong with wanting those things.
We’re human. Connection matters. Being seen matters. Appreciation feels good.
But sometimes something interesting happens.
We don’t just want the appreciation.
We begin to need it.
And when it doesn’t arrive, something inside us starts to question our worth.
When appreciation becomes an expectation
Imagine you’ve spent the afternoon preparing a beautiful dinner.
You’ve thought about the food, set the table, perhaps even made the evening feel special.
You know you’ve put care into it.
But the person you’re sharing it with comes home tired.
They’re hungry. They sit down and eat. Maybe they barely notice the table. Maybe they don’t say much at all.
And suddenly you’re disappointed.
After everything I’ve done, they can’t even appreciate it.
You might even wonder:
Why did I bother?
The dinner itself isn’t necessarily the problem.
And neither is wanting to be appreciated.
The interesting question is:
Why did I do it?
Was it because I genuinely wanted to?
Was it an expression of love, creativity or care?
Or was there also an unspoken hope that someone would respond in a particular way?
This is where awareness can change things.
As we talked about this recently, we noticed how easy it is to create expectations in our own minds and then feel hurt when other people don’t meet them. Sometimes we’re almost sending what I jokingly called “telepathic messages” — expecting someone to know how we want to be supported without ever actually telling them.
I want you to notice.
I want you to appreciate this.
I want you to sit with me.
I want you to hold me.
I want you to understand.
The need itself may be completely reasonable.
But when the other person doesn’t know what we need, the conversation can continue entirely inside our own head.
And that can create more suffering than we need to experience.
What are you really looking for?
This is the question I keep coming back to:
What are you looking for outside yourself?
Perhaps it’s appreciation.
Perhaps it’s acceptance.
Perhaps it’s reassurance.
Perhaps it’s love.
Perhaps it’s permission.
Perhaps it’s the feeling that you’re enough.
You might not even know straight away.
That’s okay.
You don’t have to find the answer immediately.
Just notice.

Because sometimes what we’re asking another person to give us points towards something we deeply need ourselves.
Not because we should never need other people.
We absolutely do.
Reconnection isn’t about becoming completely self-sufficient or deciding that you shouldn’t need support, affection or encouragement.
It’s about something gentler.
It’s about noticing when someone else’s response has become the measure of how you feel about yourself.
When your sense of worth gets tied to what you do
One of the most revealing moments in this conversation was when a woman described her sense of self-worth as being connected to what she contributes — or doesn’t contribute.
That’s such a familiar place for many women.
Especially if you’ve spent years being responsible.
You may have become very good at doing.
Doing for your children.
Doing for your partner.
Doing at work.
Doing for your family.
Organising.
Remembering.
Helping.
Holding things together.
And somewhere along the way, it can become difficult to separate What I do from Who I am.
If people appreciate what I do, I feel valued.
If they don’t, I question myself.
If I’m productive, I feel worthy.
If I’m resting, perhaps I feel guilty.
If someone notices my contribution, I feel seen.
If they don’t, I wonder whether it mattered.
That doesn’t mean you’ve done anything wrong.
It means you’ve learned a particular way of measuring yourself.
And once you become aware of it, you have another choice.
The little girl who still wants to be told she’s good
For many of us, the pattern may have started early.
Perhaps you remember being praised for being a “good girl”.
Being helpful.
Being kind.
Being well behaved.
Getting things right.
Making other people happy.
There is nothing wrong with being kind or helpful.
But when we learn that someone else needs to tell us when we’re being “good”, we can carry that need for external confirmation much further into adulthood than we realise.
One of the questions that emerged from our conversation was:
Are we still trying to get the same validation we were looking for when we were little?
Perhaps sometimes we are.
Perhaps a part of us is still waiting for someone to say:
That was very good.
I’m proud of you.
You’ve done enough.
You’re okay.
The invitation isn’t to criticise that part of ourselves.
It’s to notice her.
To understand her.
And gradually begin to offer her something different.
You don’t have to stop wanting other people’s love
This is important.
I’m not suggesting you should stop wanting appreciation.
Or stop enjoying compliments.
Or stop allowing people to support you.
Or tell yourself that you don’t need anyone.
That’s not reconnection.
That’s another form of disconnection.
The invitation is simply to notice the difference between:
“It feels lovely to be appreciated.”
and
“I need you to appreciate me in order to know that I am valuable.”
Those are very different experiences.
The first leaves room for connection.
The second can leave your sense of worth in somebody else’s hands.
Start with a spark
You don’t have to suddenly become completely self-validating.
In fact, trying to force yourself into a new way of being can become another thing to get “right”.
Instead, start smaller.
Think about something you’ve been looking for outside yourself.
Maybe it’s acceptance.
Maybe it’s love.
Maybe it’s appreciation.
Maybe it’s reassurance.
Close your eyes for a moment if that feels comfortable.
And ask yourself:
Can I find even the tiniest spark of this inside me?
Not a huge feeling.
Not a profound spiritual experience.
Just a spark.
A flicker.
A tiny beginning.
Perhaps it’s a moment when you remember something you genuinely like about yourself.
Perhaps it’s a feeling of warmth.
Perhaps it’s a quiet sense of I know this about myself.
Perhaps it’s simply the recognition:
I am here.

In the meditation that emerged from this conversation, the invitation was to find that tiny spark and simply place your attention on it. With each breath, allow it to grow at its own pace.
There is no deadline.
It doesn’t have to become a blazing fire.
It can grow slowly.
Or it can suddenly feel bigger.
Either is okay.
What you nurture can grow
I love this image because it doesn’t ask us to manufacture something we don’t have.
The spark is already there. Your job isn’t to force it.
It’s to notice it.
Nurture it.
Give it your attention.
Protect it.
This is where self-compassion becomes much more useful than self-criticism.
Instead of:
Why am I still like this?
you might ask:
What is this part of me needing?
Instead of:
Why can’t I just be confident?
you might ask:
Where do I already have a little confidence that I could build on?
Instead of:
Why do I need everyone to approve of me?
you might ask:
What am I hoping their approval will make me feel?
And then:
Can I begin to offer myself even a small part of that feeling?

A little less struggling
Sometimes we think change means becoming a different person.
Becoming more confident.
More resilient.
More disciplined.
More positive.
More healed.
But perhaps healing doesn’t always mean becoming someone new.
Perhaps sometimes it means becoming more familiar with the person who is already here.
Understanding the patterns.
Noticing the expectations.
Recognising the old voices.
Seeing where you learned to measure yourself through other people’s responses.
And then, gently, choosing something different.
Not perfectly.
Not all at once.
Just a little differently.
A few questions to sit with
You don’t need to answer all of these.
Perhaps choose one that catches your attention.
What am I looking for outside myself at the moment?
What do I hope someone else will say, do or give me?
What do I imagine I would feel if I received it?
Have I actually told the person what I need?
Am I doing this because I genuinely want to, or because I hope it will make me feel appreciated?
What happens inside me when nobody notices what I’ve done?
And perhaps the gentlest question of all:
Can I find even a tiny spark of what I’m looking for within myself?
You don’t have to find the whole answer.
Just the spark.
Coming back to yourself
There is something deeply human about wanting to be seen.
We don’t have to get rid of that.
We can let ourselves enjoy appreciation when it comes.
We can ask clearly for what we need.
We can receive love from other people.
And at the same time, we can begin to develop a quieter relationship with ourselves — one that doesn’t disappear when somebody else is distracted, tired, silent or unable to give us the response we hoped for.
This is not about not needing anybody.
It’s about not abandoning yourself while you’re waiting for somebody else to show up.
Perhaps that is what reconnection really looks like.
Not becoming completely independent.
Not having everything figured out.
Just remembering:
There is something here within me too.
And perhaps it starts as nothing more than a tiny spark.
Gentle Invitation
If this has brought something into awareness for you, Sacred Body Reset offers a gentle place to explore what your body and your experience may be communicating.
Sometimes what we notice physically is the beginning of a deeper conversation.
You don’t have to have everything figured out before you begin. You can simply start where you are.
Disclaimer: This article is for educational purposes only and is not intended as medical advice. The information provided should not replace advice from your doctor or qualified healthcare provider. Always consult your healthcare professional before making changes to medications, treatments or health practices.