The Voice in Your Head Isn't Always Telling the Truth

Last weekend my husband and I ended up at Bear Invasion in Asbury Park, New Jersey.

As we walked onto the beach, I felt that familiar nervousness that sometimes comes with walking into a social situation where you don't know many people. It didn't matter that I'd been to plenty of bear events before. That little voice still showed up.

But as the day unfolded, something shifted.

People were warm and welcoming. We grabbed drinks, danced, laughed, and met new friends. And when the music became a little too loud (I'm an outgoing introvert, after all), I'd slip away for a few quiet moments in the sun before jumping back into the fun.

It was during one of those quiet moments that I realized how much I've changed.

Years ago, I would have spent much of an event worrying about what people thought of me. I would have wondered if I fit in, if I looked good enough, or if I belonged.

This time, I simply enjoyed myself.

That felt like growth.

But it also reminded me of something important.

The right environment matters

Part of why I felt so comfortable that day had to do with the people around me.

There were bears, chubs, muscle bears, cubs, older guys, younger guys—and everyone was simply enjoying themselves together. It wasn't one of those events where people stayed in their own groups or where you felt invisible if you didn't look a certain way.

Nobody seemed to be competing.

Nobody seemed to be trying to prove anything.

People were just... connecting.

And that matters more than we sometimes realize.

We often think confidence is something we're supposed to create entirely on our own. While there's certainly inner work involved, our environment also plays a huge role. When we're surrounded by people who make us feel welcome, accepted, and safe, it's much easier to show up as ourselves.

Community doesn't erase insecurity.

But it can make it a lot quieter.

Even then, the comparisons showed up

Despite having a wonderful day, I still caught myself looking at some of the muscle bears and thinking:

"I should have more muscle."

That thought appeared almost automatically.

Years ago, I probably would have accepted it as truth. I might have left the event convinced that I needed to change my body before I could feel more confident.

But now, I've learned to pause.

Instead of believing every thought that pops into my head, I get curious about it.

I ask myself one simple question:

Why?

Why do I suddenly want more muscle?

The answer matters.

There's more than one reason to change

If my answer is about my health, then it's worth exploring.

Building strength has real benefits. It supports our heart, helps regulate blood sugar, improves mobility as we age, and contributes to overall well-being. Those are meaningful reasons to care for our bodies.

But sometimes the answer isn't really about health.

Sometimes it's:

"Because then I'd finally feel attractive."

"Because people would notice me."

"Because maybe then I'd feel confident."

I've learned those motivations don't usually lead where we hope they will.

If I believe changing my body is the thing that will finally make me feel worthy, then I'm placing my self-worth on a moving target. There will always be another comparison to make, another standard to chase, another reason to believe I'm not quite enough yet.

I've spent enough years on that treadmill to know it never really ends.

You don't have to believe every thought

One of the biggest lessons I've learned is that our first thought isn't always our truest thought.

Comparison happens.

Self-doubt happens.

Old stories have a way of resurfacing, especially in places where bodies are on display.

The goal isn't to eliminate those thoughts forever.

The goal is to notice them without letting them take over.

To ask questions.

To respond with curiosity instead of criticism.

That's a very different way of living.

Growth looks quieter than I expected

For a long time, I imagined that healing would mean never questioning my body again.

Now I think growth looks different.

Growth is walking into a room feeling a little nervous—and staying anyway.

Growth is enjoying the conversation instead of worrying about who's looking at you.

Growth is catching an old thought before it becomes an old belief.

Growth is treating yourself with the same kindness you'd offer a good friend.

I'm still a work in progress.

I still have moments of comparison.

I still have days when that inner critic tries to speak a little louder than I'd like.

But today, I know I don't have to listen to every story it tells me.

And maybe that's what confidence really is.

Not believing you're perfect.

But knowing you're already enough, even while you're still growing.

So the next time you catch yourself thinking, "I should look different," try pausing before you accept that thought as fact.

Ask yourself:

Why do I want this?

The answer might tell you far more than the thought itself.