The Versions We Become
How approval quietly shapes our identity long before we realize it.
7/3/20262 min read
Lately, I have been questioning something I never questioned before.
How much of me is actually me?
Not the version that knows how to behave correctly.
Not the version that adjusts depending on the room.
Not the version that avoids conflict, stays agreeable, and keeps things peaceful.
Just… me.
And the more I sit with that question, the more uncomfortable it becomes.
Because when I look honestly at my life, I realize how much of my personality may have been shaped by acceptance.
Somewhere along the way, I learned which version of me people responded to more warmly.
The understanding version.
The flexible version.
The easygoing version.
The version that did not ask for too much.
And slowly, without even noticing it, I started becoming that person more consistently. Not because someone forced me to. But because approval is subtle.
It comes through reactions.
Through praise.
Through being chosen.
Through being included.
Through the relief of not disappointing people.
And rejection teaches just as much.
You learn which emotions make people uncomfortable. Which needs feel “too much.” Which parts of yourself are easier to hide.
So you adapt.
At first it feels harmless. Mature, even.
You tell yourself you are understanding.
You let things go quickly.
You avoid becoming difficult.
But lately I have started wondering:
Was I genuinely understanding?
Or was I just scared that expressing my needs would make people leave?
That question has been sitting heavily with me.
Because once you see it, you start noticing it everywhere.
How often do we call emotional suppression maturity? How many of us have become experts at maintaining connection while slowly disconnecting from ourselves?
I think about this even more now as a parent.
One day my daughter, who was only five years old, said something that clearly showed she already felt pressure about fitting in. About behaving correctly. About what makes someone “good.”
And it genuinely disturbed me.
Because I had never consciously taught her that.
Which made me realize something uncomfortable:
Maybe nobody teaches us this directly.
Maybe we absorb it from the world around us.
From approval.
From comparison.
From reactions.
From silence.
From watching which version of ourselves gets accepted more easily.
And maybe adults are still doing the same thing too. Maybe many of us have spent years becoming versions that are easier for others to handle.
Until one day we sit quietly with ourselves and realize:
We no longer know which parts are real and which parts were created just to stay loved, accepted, and chosen.
I don’t think the answer is to suddenly stop caring what people think.
Human beings need connection. We always will.
But maybe there is value in pausing long enough to ask:
What do I actually feel?
What do I actually want?
And who am I
When nobody is expecting me to be anything at all?