Sometimes I wish I could turn off the part of my brain that cares so much. Life would feel easier if I didn’t overthink every move I made. A lot of my overthinking came from one question that never left me alone:
What do they think of me?
That question shaped more of my life than I realized.
I could never just enjoy myself in a room full of people. I was always in my head, questioning everything. Do I look mean? Do I come off stuck up? Did I talk too much? I wanted to dance, but how would I look? I wanted to play the game, but everyone would be watching. I wanted to do karaoke, but what if I was off key?
Even when I wanted to have fun, my mind was already ten steps ahead, measuring reactions that hadn’t even happened yet. I wasn’t living in the moment. I was mentally auditioning for it.
I would try to give myself a pep talk, tell myself to relax and just be myself, only to either overdo it or completely fade into the background. Either way, I walked away upset with myself for not being “normal” the right way.
The hardest part was never being able to explain why I might be coming off a certain way. I didn’t want to turn the moment into a venting session or make things awkward by making it about me, so I stayed quiet. It always felt like I was the only one who really understood what was going on in my head. Well duh, it is my brain… but y’all get it.
Then, once I was alone, the memories would creep in. I could be eating a bowl of cereal, taking a shower, watching TV, and suddenly I was reliving something from last week or from when I was twelve.
Like the time I gave a short talk at church about peer pressure. I said, “Just because my friends smoke weed and drink doesn’t mean I have to.” Afterward, people came up to me like, “OMG, you smoke weed?” and “What does your mom think?” I was confused, embarrassed, and irritated all at once. They must not have heard me clearly and thought I was confessing something. No wonder everyone was staring weirdly and barely anyone clapped. I went and sat in the back of the church feeling stupid.
That was one of the many times I realized how easily people can misunderstand you, and that even family isn’t always listening the way you think they are.
Or the time I turned eighteen and got my lip pierced with my best friends. I felt cute and grown, until my dad’s brother asked if I was gay and said only lesbians get lip piercings. All I could think was, great, now everybody probably thinks I’m gay.
Moments like that stay with you. One comment, one misunderstanding, can make you question yourself and your own intentions. When you care about how you’re perceived, those moments linger.
It wasn’t just friends or family that fed that feeling. The world makes it hard for people to be themselves. Everyone has something to say, and not everyone is given the same grace.
Some people can be loud, awkward, aggressive, messy, and nobody blinks, especially if they’re liked. But for others, you can breathe wrong and suddenly it’s a problem. A conversation, a think piece, or quiet ostracism.
At some point, caring too much starts to feel like carrying the world on your back. You’re trying to live your life, but you’re constantly thinking about how it looks to other people. You want to please everyone, keep the peace, avoid drama, avoid being misunderstood.
Before you know it, you’re not really living. That’s what caring too much about what people think does. It slowly edits you out of your own life.
You start to shrink yourself, mute your personality, and play it safe. You stop doing the things that make you happy because you’re afraid of how they’ll be received.
So even though it got lonely at times, being quiet felt safer. Staying in the background felt comfortable. It protected me from the judgment that comes with being seen.
That’s how me, and a lot of other people, lose ourselves without even realizing it.
Fear of judgment has a way of ruining people slowly. The judgment I faced early on turned into the judgment I expected everywhere, from everyone. Posting, speaking up, trying something new all felt too risky. Because I cared too much.
That’s not living, at least not living for you. That’s living for everyone else.
I couldn’t keep doing that. Sitting on the sidelines, watching other people live freely, wishing I could do the same, until it recently hit me. Why am I wishing and praying for something that I have full control over?
So I’m making the decision not to bring this mentality into my new year.
People will always judge. They’ll gossip and they’ll misunderstand. That’s unfortunately a part of being human. Letting that stop me from living is a choice. Letting their opinions control me? That part is optional.
I still overthink. I still get embarrassed. I still replay conversations in my head. I still think about how things I post might be received.
The difference now is that I don’t let that stop me.
Because I know who I am and I know my intentions. Nobody is worth me disappearing again.
I’m learning to show up for myself.
I’m learning to dream without asking permission.
I’m learning to love myself authentically, without needing approval.