Stop Rationalizing Behavior: The Silent Habit That Kills Self-Trust and Courage
“If you can’t tell the difference between assertion and aggression, you’ll default to cowardice—or swing toward overcompensation.”
My husband and I were talking about rationalizing behavior. We’re both grown, in our 40s—and still, this gets sticky.
See, we both come from immigrant backgrounds. And in the old country, you’re taught to “follow the rules” and “don’t be disrespectful.”
So when you feel upset or uncomfortable? It’s easier to default to that old programming: Don’t be problematic.
Maybe you don’t share our background. But maybe you do know what it’s like to swallow discomfort because rocking the boat feels too risky—or too foreign.
Maybe, depending on your temperament or upbringing, staying silent feels like safety.
But what if your unease isn’t immaturity—it’s intelligence trying to get your attention?
Rationalizing isn’t just a mental habit.
It’s a form of self-abandonment.
And when it becomes your default, it can quietly sabotage your business, your boundaries, and your sense of inner leadership.
We’ve got ground to cover. Let’s get into it.
The Path to Truth Starts Here
Rationalization: The Polite Name for Quiet Sabotage
Rationalization rarely sounds dramatic. It doesn’t shout. It whispers.
“Maybe I’m being dramatic.”
“They didn’t mean it that way.”
“Let me just give it more time.”
“I don’t want to make things awkward.”
But what’s really happening underneath?
You’re abandoning yourself.
Dodging clarity.
And silently bleeding trust with the person who matters most—you.
I once knew a business owner who stayed with a vendor for years, paying significantly more than market rate. Why?
Because the idea of renegotiating or switching felt “too messy.”
They’d known each other for years. The vendor wasn’t terrible—just overpriced, increasingly inconsistent, and no longer a fit.
But instead of asserting what had changed, he kept justifying the cost.
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s not worth the hassle.”
“I’ll just rework the budget.”
And that’s what rationalizing does.
It turns avoidance into strategy.
It takes emotional discomfort and masks it as professionalism, loyalty, or logic.
But beneath that… is fear.
Fear of being the difficult one. Worry of conflict. Anxiety of being judged for asking for more—or walking away.
Rationalizing may look like maturity.
But often? It’s just conflict avoidance in a tailored blazer.
When “It’s Fine” Is a Lie You Tell Yourself
Just like me trying to squeeze into a size 6 dress knowing full well I’m a double-digit queen, rationalization is a tight fit that looks okay in the mirror—until something rips.
And we do this in business, relationships, and leadership all the time.
You may have caught yourself whispering:
“Maybe I’m overreacting.”
“They didn’t mean it that way.”
“It’s not worth making a big deal about.”
“Let me just give it more time.”
“I don’t want to make things awkward.”
Translation?
You’re abandoning yourself in real-time.
And it’s not always loud. Sometimes it’s hidden in habits like:
Letting that one client sneak onto your calendar even though they drain you
Avoiding your business bank account because “something will work itself out”
Staying in the “it’s not that bad” zone with a vendor, collaborator, or partnership you’ve outgrown
I’m not judging. I’ve rationalized with the best of them. And there are real psychological and biological reasons why we do it.
🧠 Psychology: Cognitive Distortions
Rationalizing is often a mix of:
Minimization – “It’s not that big of a deal.”
Wishful thinking – “They’ll change… eventually.”
Idealized fantasizing – Dreaming about best-case outcomes instead of facing what’s real.
We lie to ourselves because fantasy feels safer than friction.
Let me give you a real-world example:
A coach I knew kept saying yes to a long-term client who was constantly late, regularly rescheduled, and treated the session like casual coffee talk instead of the deep work they were paying for. She kept telling herself,
“They’ve been with me since the beginning.”
“Maybe they’re just going through something.”
“I don’t want to seem like I’m only in it for the money.”
But the truth?
She was afraid.
Afraid of confrontation. Afraid of losing income. Afraid of being “too much.”
So instead of setting a boundary, she rationalized the discomfort.
And over time, her resentment grew—and so did her doubt in her ability to hold the container for anyone else.
That’s the price of distorted thinking: you lose trust in others and in yourself.
🔬 Science: Dopamine & Avoidance
Avoidance gives you a short-term dopamine hit.
You don’t check the account. Delay the feedback email. Put off reviewing client applications that already feel off.
And in that moment?
Relief.
Your brain rewards you for dodging discomfort—even if the cost is clarity, cash flow, or confidence.
There’s research behind this: a study in Behaviour Research and Therapy (Salkovskis et al., 2000) found that avoiding emotionally triggering tasks reduces anxiety in the short term, but increases long-term stress and makes future avoidance more likely. It wires you to see discomfort as danger—even when growth is on the other side.
Here’s what that looks like in real life:
A business owner knew her last three discovery calls had been total red flags.
One person dominated the convo. Another asked zero questions. A third admitted, “I probably need a therapist more than a coach.”
But instead of tightening her intake process or reviewing her screening form, she distracted herself with content planning.
“I’ll revisit the form next quarter.”
“It’s probably just a weird week.”
“I just need to get better at converting.”
But the issue wasn’t her close rate—it was her avoidance rate.
And the longer she ignored the pattern, the more her business started to feel unsafe… to her.
Why We Rationalize (and Who Taught Us)
Sometimes, rationalizing isn’t about being dishonest—it’s about being trained.
Let’s break it down:
Family survival mechanisms taught you: Don’t rock the boat. Be the good girl. Defer to elders. Keep it light, keep it polite.
Cultural norms—like my husband Hoi’s immigrant experience—conditioned entire generations to avoid “emotional chaos.”
Don’t question authority. Don’t voice discomfort. Keep it moving.
And then there’s the social whiplash of modern business culture:
#MeToo revealed real abuse, no question. But in the aftermath, some men shut down emotionally—not out of accountability, but fear.
Suddenly, offering any differing perspective became “mansplaining.”
Any emotional nuance was flattened into a binary: predator or victim.
Yes, power was misused—but context, compassion, and clarity got swept up in the judgment tsunami.
Meanwhile, in traditional business settings?
Professionalism became a muzzle.
If you were raised in the era of Oregon Trail or the Commodore 64, you remember what command-and-control leadership felt like.
Boomers told us:
“Shut up. Take notes. Be grateful you’re in the room.”
So you did.
You swallowed every instinct to question, push back, or suggest something different.
Not because you lacked insight—because you were trained to believe that speaking up cost too much.
And here’s the kicker:
This pattern doesn’t stay in your past. It bleeds into your leadership.
Into how you price your work.
Yup, it seeped into how long you tolerate misaligned clients.
Yes, right into the quiet belief that the only way to get paid is to play ball with whoever holds the purse strings.
So no—rationalizing doesn’t mean you’re wrong.
It means you were conditioned to override truth for safety.
And now? You get to unlearn it.
What Rationalizing Behavior Costs You
We live in a society that wants you to play ball—but just like a pro athlete, it stops caring the moment you can’t perform.
Our culture doesn’t just discard aging celebrities or sports stars.
It does the same to everyday people.
Professionals. Coaches. Creatives. Women.
People like you.
Here’s what that looks like in the spotlight:
🎤 Entertainment Example: Sinéad O’Connor
What happened: Sinéad O’Connor was a powerhouse vocalist with haunting songs like Nothing Compares 2 U.
But in 1992, she tore up a photo of the Pope on SNL to protest child abuse in the Catholic Church—years before the scandal was widely acknowledged.
Industry reaction: She was obliterated.
Radio stations banned her music.
She was mocked, blacklisted, and painted as unstable.
The twist: Decades later, people admitted she was right.
The Catholic Church was exposed for exactly what she tried to reveal.
Takeaway: The industry devoured her talent, but discarded her the moment she used her voice for truth.
💼 Professional Example: Ellen Pao
What happened: As interim CEO of Reddit, Ellen Pao cracked down on harassment and toxic content.
She pushed for workplace equity—long before it was trending.
Industry reaction:
The backlash was brutal.
She was blamed for decisions that later became standard.
Eventually, she resigned under pressure.
The twist:
Reddit quietly implemented many of her reforms—after she was gone.
Takeaway:
A woman who tried to lead with integrity was chewed up by the very system she tried to change.
So yeah—rationalizing can feel safer.
Especially when you see what happens to people who dare to challenge the status quo.
But here’s the truth: rationalizing behavior has a cost.
Here’s what it looks like in your business and body:
Lost self-trust
Gaslighting your own intuition
Attracting poor-fit clients or collaborators
Tolerating too much before you explode—or disappear
Second-guessing your own leadership voice
And I’m not pointing fingers.
I did this too—with my former coaching program Royalty.
It was supposed to attract high-achieving women who wanted to grow their income and confidence.
But the truth?
The tactics I was teaching were the very ones hollowing me out.
I rationalized it.
“It’s okay. This is just what the market wants.”
“No biggie. This is how you scale.”
“Don’t overthink it. This is how the game works.”
But while I was chasing metrics, I was losing presence.
I wasn’t leading—I was performing.
And it was making me sick.
That’s the cost of rationalization.
It doesn’t just compromise your strategy.
It corrodes your soul.
When to Let It Go—and When to Call It What It Is
Let’s clear something up:
Speaking up is not violence.
It’s not disrespect. It’s not disruption.
It’s not you being dramatic, aggressive, or “too much.”
But if you’ve been trained to believe that assertion = danger,
you’ll default to silence—even when something inside you is screaming.
Here’s the real deal:
Assertion is clarity.
Aggression is control.
And rationalizing your discomfort is fear trying to keep the status quo.
There’s a big difference between picking a fight and naming what’s real.
But if you were raised to “keep the peace” or “be nice,”
any form of truth-telling can feel like war.
So how do you know when to let it go…
and when to call it what it is?
Ask yourself:
Am I letting this go because it’s truly resolved in me—or because I don’t want to be judged?
Is staying quiet protecting my peace—or just postponing conflict?
If I say nothing, will I feel stronger tomorrow… or smaller?
If the answer leaves you feeling shrunk, tight, or resentful—
that’s not peace.
That’s self-erasure.
And here’s the truth no one likes to say out loud:
The longer you rationalize, the louder your body will start to protest.
Stress, burnout, resentment, creative numbness—they’re all signs that silence has gone stale.
You don’t need to yell. You don’t need to burn bridges.
But you do need to stop betraying yourself in the name of being polite.
Assertion isn’t the problem.
It’s the path back to alignment.
FAQ: But What If…?
Q: What if I’m wrong and I am overreacting?
A: Take a pause. Then check your body. If you’re still carrying tension, replaying the moment, or shrinking yourself—you’re not overreacting. You’re reacting to a boundary that’s been crossed.
Q: How do I know if I’m being assertive or aggressive?
A: Assertiveness speaks from clarity. Aggression speaks from control. If you’re grounded, honest, and not trying to dominate—you’re not being aggressive.
Want more on this? I wrote about how to speak up without spiraling here.
Q: What if someone accuses me of being difficult when I speak up?
A: That’s a reflection of their comfort with control—not your character. Don’t let someone’s fear of truth define your relationship with your voice.
Final Thoughts on Rationalizing Behavior
Rationalizing behavior isn’t just a mindset glitch—it’s a form of quiet self-abandonment.
It tells you to trade your truth for temporary peace.
It convinces you that speaking up is too risky, that discomfort means you’re doing something wrong, that maybe silence is safer.
But here’s what I want you to remember:
You’re not “too sensitive.”
You’re not “making a big deal out of nothing.”
And you’re definitely not aggressive for naming what doesn’t sit right.
Your discomfort is not a defect—it’s data.
A signal that something needs attention.
And the moment you stop rationalizing it is the moment you start reclaiming your voice.
Letting it go can be powerful.
So can calling it what it is.
Choose based on truth, not fear.
That’s not rebellion.
That’s real leadership.
Want more?
If you’re ready to stop rationalizing and start reclaiming your voice—I’d be honored to support you.
💛 Work with me, Denise G. Lee – Let’s unlearn the self-abandonment, rewire your leadership patterns, and build something rooted in truth, not performance.
👉 Explore working together
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💌 Got questions or reflections?
I’d love to hear from you.
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Just in case no one’s reminded you lately:
Using your voice isn’t a threat.
It’s a return.
To presence. To clarity. To power.
