Discernment + Trusting What You Know, Even When They Don't

This is a Blog about discernment, with an upcoming podcast to accompany it for those who prefer to listen. But more than that, it's about trusting yourself when the world, the room, the people in power, or even the people in the chairs beside you, act like you're delusional for doing so.

This is about a particular moment, but it's also about a pattern that I have recently come to understand in my adult life.

It's about the day I realized my knowing was threatening to people who needed me to doubt myself so they could feel secure in their authority, even though standing in my own power is not a threat to anyone..

It's about what happened to me at my last job. And it's about what happens far too often, especially to Black women, especially in healing professions, when we start to believe in ourselves too much. When our clients affirm us too loudly, and when our self-trust becomes visible.

And it's about the difference between ego and discernment, theirs, and your own.

Ego defends. Discernment knows.

Ego is loud. It defends, performs, and clings to identity preservation at all cost.

Discernment is quiet. It is a deep knowing that doesn't need to make noise, but also doesn't need to move just because someone else is uncomfortable.

Here's the thing, people often want to be heard, but they don't want to listen. They want you to take in their advice, their feedback, their projections, without ever having asked what you needed in the first place. People forget that once their advice leaves their lips, it’s up to you what you do with it.

When you speak with conviction, they try to make you doubt yourself. But they want to speak with conviction, and then they expect you to absorb it like it's the truth, even when you didn't ask, even when it's wrong, even when you know exactly what you know, and they just don't want you to believe yourself.

What happened at my last job

What I realized really quickly was that the kind of clinician I am is rare. As a result, to others, how I practice is outside of their scope of view entirely. Instead of appreciating that we all bring something to the space, they attempt to criticize me, not realizing they’re a part of the problem. I remember the exact moment I knew I had to leave.

It wasn't because I was failing, or because I didn't know what I was doing. It was because I was succeeding, and they couldn’t figure out why. When I explained why, it was so foreign to them that they had to make it an issue. My clients were telling me the truth about their experience with me, so often, and that truth was too much for my colleagues to bear. Especially because they didn’t teach it to me. Where did I get this knowing from? How was it working when the things they learned sound nothing like what was making my clients feel so fulfilled?

I was told, directly, that what I believed about myself, the things my clients were naming and celebrating, was inaccurate. I was told that they had a professional responsibility to "correct" my self-perception.

I want you to hear that again. I was told that they needed to intervene, not because I was harming anyone, but because I was believing too deeply in who I was becoming and my clients were validating that my clinical orientation was the kind of therapy they needed.

Because I trusted my clarity, I was grounded, and I was excited about being able to do the kind of work I worked hard to be able to provide using my own lived experience. That was the threat.

The conversation with my supervisor.

There was a particular exchange with my supervisor that cracked something open for me. Not because she said anything new, but because of how confidently she said it, and how wrong she was.

I had received multiple messages from clients, thanking me, affirming me, telling me they had never felt this seen before, never felt this regulated, never felt so safe to be honest. I didn’t ask any of them to share this information, it was offered. And instead of being celebrated for that, instead of that being recognized as clinical effectiveness, or cultural alignment, or even just being a damn good therapist, I was told I was likely misinterpreting it. In fact, I was told that the reason they felt that way was being I was “kind and fluffy,” and that they’re not used to people being nice to them.

I was told not to take it in too deeply. I was told that my clients couldn't possibly be right about me, because if they were, it would mean my supervisors were doing something wrong. It would mean the people in power missed something. It would mean that I was embodying something they hadn't given me permission to claim, and that couldn't be allowed so they decided to correct me.

That was the moment I realized that this isn't about guidance, it’s about control, ego, and projection.

Projection, control, and the need to override

It's wild how quickly people will shift from "we care about you" to "we need to manage you," the moment your self-trust grows stronger than their influence. People want to be the ones who help you rise, but only on their timeline. They want to feel like you owe them something for your clarity.

And when you no longer do, when your knowing is no longer contingent on their approval, and when it sounds different from what they can comprehend in their linear thinking, that's when the sabotage begins.

That's when they start saying things like:

"Be careful not to take too much from that."

"Don't rely on your client feedback."

"You might be misreading them."

That's when they need you to doubt what you heard. To filter your own experience through their insecurity, it's always framed as care, professionalism, and a part of the process. All stated to make you accept a behavior that is quite frankly unacceptable. But it's not care. It's control, hierarchy, projection and ego, dressed in professionalism.

What discernment actually looks like

Discernment is not performance, needing to be right, defending your title, or your seat, or your superiority. Discernment is knowing what you know, without the need to prove it. It's receiving feedback when it resonates and rejecting it when it doesn't.

It's being open, anchored, and holding your truth long enough to see whose truth was never anchored in care to begin with, even when they try to convince you it is. Your truth becomes dangerous, to them. The truth is, they saw my discernment as arrogance.

What’s worse is they saw my clarity as insubordination, even though my voice and truth were expressed with complete professionalism, grace, and care. To them, I was supposed to stay in self-doubt, defer to their expertise, and take their word over mine, even though my word is rooted in lived experience, clinical intuition, and real measurable outcomes.

But the more I leaned into what I knew, the more uncomfortable they are. They didn't want me to believe I was effective unless they said so. They didn't want me to know who I was, unless it aligned with who they thought I should be. They bullied me, harassed me, constantly moved goal posts, lied, were deceptive and attempted to sabotage me. They thought it would work. And when it didn't, they tried to make me question everything. But I didn't. I left. I accepted that they were pushing me out and would do nothing to stop. So I succeeded, because discernment also looks like walking away. It wasn’t easy, but staying was making me sick, and then knew it.

You are not asking for too much

I want to leave you with this, you are not asking for too much when you ask to be treated with respect. You are not delusional for trusting the impact you've made on people's lives. You are not egotistical for knowing you are gifted, especially when those gifts are confirmed by the people you're here to serve. You are not arrogant for protecting your spirit from projection. And you are not obligated to be a lesser version of yourself just to make someone else feel more secure in their authority.

Let them sit with their discomfort.

You? Sit with your knowing.

Be well.