Each day is a blank page, and some days, you may find you have nothing to write. That’s OK. Not every day demands a grand gesture or a profound insight.
Sometimes, simply showing up—living through the blankness—is enough. There’s a quiet dignity in accepting the ebb and flow of our own creativity and presence.
In our search for meaning, it’s easy to fall into the trap of seeking validation from others. Yet, most people are searching for validation themselves, often unable to give what they do not possess.
We're all walking around with cups that need filling, hoping someone else will pour into them, while simultaneously being asked to pour from our own often-empty vessels.
This creates a kind of emotional scarcity economy where everyone is both buyer and seller of the same rare commodity - genuine recognition and acceptance. The person whose approval we desperately seek is likely scrolling through their phone at 2 AM, wondering if anyone truly sees them. The colleague we think has it all figured out goes home and questions whether their work matters.
What's particularly cruel about this dynamic is that the very act of seeking validation often repels it. There's something people can sense - a kind of energetic neediness that makes others instinctively step back, not out of cruelty, but because they're protecting their own limited reserves.
Maybe the way out isn't to stop needing validation entirely - that might be impossible and even undesirable since we're social creatures. Instead, it might be about diversifying our sources of meaning so that external approval becomes more like seasoning than sustenance. When we can generate some sense of worth internally, we're less likely to drain others and more capable of offering genuine recognition when we encounter someone else searching.
The irony is that people who seem to need validation least often receive it most freely. They've somehow learned to light their own candle first.
Expecting or demanding validation from others is a recipe for disappointment; it rarely arrives in the form we hope for, if it shows up at all.
Imagine, for a moment, what life would be like if you stopped seeking validation from the outside world and instead looked inward. What if the only approval you needed was your own?
I’ve come to see that validation and confidence are close cousins. The more we depend on others to affirm our worth, the more fragile our confidence becomes. True confidence is an inside job—it grows when we recognize our own value, independent of external applause.
Seeking external validation creates a kind of brittle confidence, like a house built on shifting sand. Every compliment becomes a temporary high, every criticism a potential collapse. It's exhausting to constantly monitor the emotional weather around you, adjusting your sense of self based on other people's moods, opinions, or availability.
True confidence has a different quality entirely. It's quieter, less performative. It doesn't need to announce itself or seek witnesses. When you know your own worth, you can receive compliments without becoming addicted to them, and handle criticism without being destroyed by it. Both become information rather than verdicts on your existence.
This shift changes everything about how you move through the world. You stop contorting yourself to fit what you think others want to see. You make decisions based on your own compass rather than constantly triangulating between different people's expectations. The energy that once went into seeking approval can be redirected toward actually becoming the person you want to be.
Perhaps most liberating is that real confidence makes you less dependent on being right all the time. When your worth isn't on trial in every interaction, you can afford to be wrong, to learn, to change your mind. You can even afford to be disliked by some people - a freedom that's almost unimaginable when you're trapped in the validation-seeking cycle.
The irony is that this kind of inner solidity often makes others more drawn to you, not less. Self-possessed people are magnetic precisely because they're not trying to be.
Ultimately, what we all long for is to feel valued—to know that our existence matters. But this validation only needs to come from one source: the person or purpose we serve.
If you serve with sincerity and don’t value yourself, you’ll struggle to find fulfillment, no matter how many accolades you collect. Conversely, when you serve authentically and recognize your own worth, you naturally attract others who see and appreciate your value.
There's something almost magnetic about someone who operates from this place of authentic service and self-recognition. They're not performing generosity to earn points or prove their goodness - they're simply expressing who they are. People can feel the difference immediately.
When you serve from authenticity rather than neediness, your energy is completely different. You're not secretly keeping score, waiting for reciprocation, or feeling resentful when your efforts go unnoticed. You give because it aligns with your values, not because you're trying to purchase approval or connection.
This creates a beautiful selection effect. People who are drawn to performative giving or transactional relationships naturally drift away - they can sense there's nothing for them to exploit or manipulate. Meanwhile, those who genuinely appreciate authentic connection are drawn in. You end up surrounded by people who see your actual value rather than what you can do for them.
It's like the difference between a spotlight and sunlight. A spotlight demands attention, creates harsh shadows, and only illuminates what it's pointed at. Sunlight just is - it nourishes everything it touches without effort or expectation. People naturally gravitate toward those who radiate this kind of steady, unpretentious warmth.
The relationships that form from this foundation are fundamentally different too. They're based on mutual recognition rather than mutual need, genuine appreciation rather than strategic alliance. When both people know their own worth, they can celebrate each other's without feeling diminished.
This, I think, is why I find so much joy in teaching. Teaching is an act of giving, but it’s also a way to receive value—a reciprocal validation that my existence matters, that I have something meaningful to offer. Not every student will value me, but a few will - and those are the ones who exist to remind you that your existence matters.
Curiously, we often don’t realize the true value of something until we’re at risk of losing it. Whether it’s a cherished book that must be returned, civil liberties that are threatened, or the stark reality of a terminal illness, the prospect of loss sharpens our appreciation.
Suddenly, we fight for what we once took for granted. The illusion of abundance—the sense that we have all the time, freedom, or connection we could ever want—shatters when we see how quickly it can slip away. In those moments, what truly matters comes into sharp focus.
Like everything else in life, attention is the key. When we pay attention to what’s important, what’s important grows in significance. The real challenge is learning to discern the trivial from the truly meaningful—for ourselves and for others. It’s a lifelong process of tuning in, letting go, and embracing what matters most.
In the end, perhaps the greatest act of self-validation is to live each day with intention, to recognize the value in ourselves and in the fleeting moments that make up our lives. When we do, we discover that the blank pages are not empty at all—they are full of possibility, waiting for us to notice.
And there's something profound about framing intention as the "greatest act" of self-validation. It shifts validation from something passive we hope to receive to something active we choose to embody.
Living with intention is its own form of self-respect. When you wake up and consciously choose how to spend your finite hours, you're making a statement about your worth. You're saying: my time matters, my choices matter, this life I've been given deserves thoughtful stewardship. Even mundane decisions become acts of self-recognition when they're made deliberately.
This kind of intentional living also creates an internal feedback loop that external validation never can. When you act in alignment with your values, you feel it immediately. When you use your time well, you know it without needing anyone to tell you. When you treat yourself with respect, the validation is instantaneous and unshakeable.
Perhaps most importantly, intentional living generates its own evidence of worth. Every day you choose growth over comfort, contribution over consumption, presence over distraction, you're building a case for your own value that no one can argue with - including the critic in your own head.
It's not about perfection or never having difficult days. It's about the ongoing practice of treating your life as if it matters, because it does. That recognition, renewed daily through conscious choice, becomes a foundation that external circumstances can't erode.
In this way, self-validation becomes less about convincing yourself you're worthy and more about living as if you already know you are.