Stop Being So Obsessed With Me

I now find it odd to contemplate how much I’ve cared what others supposedly think about me. Cared about what they have to say, how they’re perceiving me, and if I fit into the box I want to within their head. Most likely, they’re not even considering me. My existence as significant as the coffee they had on their way to work, either loved or hated in the moment, and just as easily forgotten. Thrown into the public bin as they continue on their way to a job they feel similarly about.

I’ve been crushed by the idea of what people have thought about me, let alone had to say1. Whether it’s because I’m wearing clothing that is characterless and boring and they’ll think I must be as grey and bland, or I am being too bold, too daring, too forthcoming and therefore unbearably unappealing and cringe. I never seem to hit the sweet spot. But honestly, is there one?

I’ve gone through all the possible scenarios to get people to like me in the past. To get folks to sway their opinion or vote of me in the direction I prefer, but maybe, and I might be onto something here, their perception of me is as real as the version of me that lives untouched and pure within my body. Both can be true, for one is their truth, and one is mine, and I know out of the two, which one belongs to me. Chances are, too, their version is so lacking in depth and detail and, of course, their understanding would be basic; if the tip of the iceberg had a tip of its own, they’ve barely brushed that. Barely looked at it, barely conceived that there is more than what meets the eye.

So much of my wanting to be perceived a certain way has been wrapped up in wanting to be seen as being good, as an obedient, high-integrity girl2 who would never wrong you and only wants to serve you in your comfort. I’ve wanted to show you how good I am at whatever I apply myself to, and will contort myself like willow limbs until it is achieved. In doing so, I’ve masked the real me to be the me I’m projecting to match the me in your head. So when the praise never comes how I want it to, I’m always left feeling defeated and, quite honestly, hurt that I didn’t mean more. But what did I expect? I only ever gave the airbrushed magazine cutouts of my perfect angles, and I am far from 2D.

Thankfully, I find myself not caring so much anymore. Once upon a time, I wanted you to think I looked fit, but not in the Instagram-babe way, because that’s vapid. Only God knows I struggle to work out once a week and have to force myself to walk the dogs if there is even a slight wind. I wanted you to think I look introspective, that I, out of all the strangers you pass on the street, am the one noticing all the micro-moments the rest of humanity takes for granted, when really I’m overstimulated, my cognitive function in decline with the amount of sensory input from being in a public place. I am not quirky; I have a splitting headache, haven’t eaten since breakfast, and need to go home.

And ridiculously, I wanted you to think all of that like it meant nothing to me. As if you ever brought those observations to my attention, I would just laugh and bat my eyelids in a flirtatious way because that’s so nice of you to say! But if there’s one thing I’ve learnt as the wheels of time keep rolling and I keep shedding skins, it is that no one is as obsessed with me as I am. In fact, they don’t care at all. The same way I don’t care about you3, or them, or him or hers, they or theirs.

What a roundabout way to be chewed up and spat out, only to realise that being who I am is to genuinely be free.

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1 God forbid anyone talk about me! But it’s fine if I do them because I’m self-aware and not being nasty… Right?

2 Unlearning these traits from childhood days feels like unbuttoning a straight jacket with your teeth. Young impressionable girls (like the one I once was) get hit so hard with the obedience and nice stick and now I think it’s nothing but revolting. I choose to say girl here instead of woman as I am no longer a girl and no longer care to carry those societal expectations for myself let alone future generations.

3 I mean this in a very surface way. I do care about humanity and whether or not you are a happy, well-fed, loved up human. That I care about deeply. Just not about the superficial things I noted here, that I surely cannot be the only one to have ever pondered.