One of the things I’m enjoying with the passing years is that I care less and less what others think of me. I grew up feeling incredibly self-conscious, terrified that someone was noticing me, judging me, lumping me into a clique or a group. I knew it wasn’t possible to be liked by everyone; I didn’t want to be liked—mostly, I wanted to be invisible.
In my early twenties, my feelings of being easily embarrassed and afraid of what others thought of me were huge, huge, huge. I didn’t want to hear any negative feedback, and if someone noticed me, I wanted approval, to not disappoint. I was 30-ish before I started shrugging things off, bit by bit. I can’t think of any particular turning point other than realizing that what others think of me is not my problem…and now at 40, I’m pretty close to not giving a damn at all.
Sure, you can tell me what you think about my life choices, the company I keep, how I spend my money or how I spend my time, but I really don’t care what anyone else thinks. I do no willful harm to others, so it is very freeing and liberating to not be in a constant state of seeking approval. It is a relief to focus on living the way I want instead of worrying what it looks like to outsiders.