I used to read the room before I ever learned how to read myself. Every conversation felt like a quiet calculation. I would notice the tone first, the expression second, and only then decide what version of myself to show. I said yes when I meant no. I agreed when I disagreed. I stayed quiet when I wanted to leave. I didn’t realize I had been doing this my entire life.
Then I read The Courage to Be Disliked by Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga. And something in me resisted immediately, because the book was asking a question I had been avoiding for years: what if the thing I call “care” is actually fear of being disliked?
Why I Always Needed Other People’s Approval Without Knowing It
The book is written as a dialogue between a philosopher and a young man who feels stuck in his life. He blames his past, his personality, his environment—anything except himself. And I recognized that voice instantly. It sounded like me on my worst days.
The philosopher doesn’t comfort him. He doesn’t soften the truth. Instead, he says something simple and unsettling: your past does not define you. The meaning you assign to it does.
The young man pushes back. He gets angry. He refuses to accept it. And I understood that reaction too, because part of me also wanted to believe my limitations were fixed. It feels safer that way. If I don’t change, I don’t have to risk being rejected. If I don’t risk being rejected, I can keep belonging to everyone.
What “Separation of Tasks” Means in Real Life
At the center of the book is something called “separation of tasks.” I kept coming back to it, even when I wasn’t reading.
It’s a simple idea: what I do is my task, what others think or feel about it is not.
I didn’t realize how often I had been crossing that line. I thought I was being considerate, but I was actually trying to manage other people’s reactions—trying to make sure no one was disappointed, no one was uncomfortable, no one pulled away.
The book reframed that completely. It made me see that I wasn’t just afraid of conflict. I was afraid of letting people have their own reactions to me. And that is a much deeper kind of fear.
How I Started Noticing My People-Pleasing Habit
After reading the book, I started noticing small moments I used to ignore. A message I didn’t want to reply to immediately. An invitation I didn’t actually want to accept. A request I agreed to before even thinking.
I began pausing—not long pauses, just enough to notice what I actually felt before responding. That small gap changed things more than I expected, because for the first time I could see the difference between wanting to be liked and wanting to be honest. They are not the same thing.
What I Don’t Agree With in This Book
The book is not perfect. It sometimes sounds too certain about human behavior, and its dismissal of trauma feels too clean for real life. People are shaped by things they didn’t choose, and not everything is a simple “decision” or “lifestyle.”
I didn’t agree with everything, but I also didn’t need to. Because the point wasn’t agreement—it was exposure. It showed me where I had been quietly giving other people control over how I live.
What I Took Away About Approval and Self-Worth
The biggest shift wasn’t behavioral. It was internal. I stopped seeing approval as something I needed to earn in every interaction, and started seeing it as something I don’t control. Some people will like me. Some won’t. Both are allowed.
That realization didn’t make me fearless, but it made me lighter.
I still catch myself trying to adjust how I’m seen. That habit doesn’t disappear quickly. But now I notice it sooner. And sometimes, instead of adjusting, I stop. I let the discomfort stay. I let the moment be imperfect.
Because I finally understand something simple: I don’t need to live in a way that guarantees I won’t be disliked. I just need to live in a way that I don’t disappear from myself.
And that feels like the first honest choice I’ve made in a long time.
