I Stopped Asking

In the beginning, I asked. Constantly. Does this really work? Can you prove it? What if the customers are right and the science is wrong? And if the science is right, what am I actually selling?

Good questions. Uncomfortable questions. But they were there.

Then the revenue started. And with revenue came the confirmations. Customers who said thank you. Athletes who said they’d never performed so well. Regular people who told me their back pain had gotten better. Thousands. Not a handful, thousands.

And I stood in the middle. The scientist says no. The customer says yes. And I’m earning.

In that position, you still ask questions at first. You weigh things up. You think it through. But at some point, the balance shifts. Not all at once. Not consciously. It happens so slowly that you don’t notice.

The question “Does this work?” becomes “People say it works.” And then it becomes “It obviously works.” And then it’s gone. Replaced by no question at all. Just action.

I can’t name the moment. That’s the insidious part. There’s no day when I decided to stop looking. There were just many days when the looking got a little less. A little quieter. A little rarer. Until it was silent.

Self-deception doesn’t work like a light switch. It works like a sunset. It gets darker, but you don’t notice because you’ve been there the whole time. Only when it’s night do you realize you can’t see anything anymore.

I was honest with myself and dishonest at the same time. I saw that it helped people. They felt better. They believed. They wanted to believe. What I ignored: the possibility that the effect came from their heads, not from the silicone. I felt the contradiction. But the register was too good.

And the register has its own logic. When the numbers are right every month, when reorders come in, when new markets open up, that carries a persuasive force stronger than any scientific study. Not because you’re stupid. But because the market tells you every day: You’re doing the right thing. And who gets that kind of feedback every day?

I’m not talking about criminal intent here. I’m talking about what happens in every industry where money sets the beat. You do a job. The job pays off. You start dropping the questions that could endanger the job. Not because you’re a bad person. But because you’re a person.

That’s not an excuse. It’s an observation.

I see the same pattern everywhere. In companies that know their product doesn’t deliver what it promises, but the quarterly numbers are fine. In relationships where both people know something’s off, but nobody asks because the answer would cost too much. In politics, where everyone can see that a narrative doesn’t hold up, but they go along with it because pushing back has consequences.

The pattern is always the same. First you ask. Then you ask less often. Then you stop. And then you defend the result against anyone who’s still asking.

That last step is the most dangerous one. Because from that point on, you’re not just deceiving yourself, you’re actively making sure others do the same. You become a defender of a position you never consciously chose. You just slid into it.

Today I get uneasy when I haven’t asked an uncomfortable question in a while. When everything’s running smoothly. When nobody’s pushing back. When the numbers are right and everyone’s nodding. That was exactly the precursor back then. That’s exactly how it started.

Self-deception doesn’t start with a lie. It starts with a question you stop asking. With a thought you don’t follow through. With a contradiction you don’t speak out loud.

I stopped asking. And that was the deception.