What’s one thing you wish you had started doing earlier in life?

The simple answer?

Not giving a shit.

Now, before anyone gets terribly offended by the language, let me explain.

I don’t mean becoming an arsehole.

I don’t mean treating people badly.

And I certainly don’t mean wandering around behaving like your actions don’t have consequences.

I mean not caring quite so much about what other people think of you.

It’s something I’ve got considerably better at as I’ve got older.

Because apparently one of the benefits of getting older is finally realising that a lot of the things you spent your younger years worrying about…

…weren’t actually worth worrying about.

People are going to have an opinion about you.

They just are.

It doesn’t matter whether they’ve met you.

They might have read something you wrote online about a divisive subject.

They might have seen you walking through town wearing that ridiculous hat.

They might have heard a story about you from someone who knew someone who was there that one time you completely fucked something up.

And suddenly they have a version of you in their head.

A character.

A story.

A collection of assumptions.

And you know what?

You can’t control that.

You could spend your entire life trying to make sure everybody has the “right” opinion of you.

You could change what you say.

Change what you wear.

Change what you believe.

Change how you behave.

You could spend years trying to become the version of yourself that you think other people will approve of.

And eventually you’ll probably discover something rather depressing.

They’re still going to have an opinion.

Because people are people.

We all look at the world through our own experiences, prejudices, memories and expectations.

Someone can meet you on a bad day and decide you’re an unpleasant person.

Someone else can meet you on exactly the same day and think you’re having a difficult time.

Someone can read one thing you wrote and decide they don’t like you.

Someone else can read it and think, “Bloody hell, finally, someone said it.”

You can’t win.

And honestly?

I’ve stopped trying.

It’s bloody liberating.

Because I’ve finally realised that other people’s opinions of me are not actually my responsibility.

My responsibility is how I treat people.

Whether I’m honest.

Whether I try to be kind.

Whether I own my mistakes.

Whether I apologise when I’ve fucked up.

Whether I try to leave people a little better off for having crossed paths with me.

Beyond that?

Well…

People are going to think what they think.

And that’s okay.

I’ve spent far too much of my life worrying about how I’m perceived.

Wondering whether somebody misunderstood something I said.

Replaying conversations in my head.

Thinking about what someone might have meant by something they said.

Trying to work out whether someone likes me.

Or whether they’ve changed their opinion of me.

Or whether I’ve somehow pissed them off.

You know what?

That’s exhausting.

And for what?

Because there’s a rather uncomfortable truth about being human.

Everyone has a version of you.

To some people, you’re a monster.

To others, you’re a great person.

To some, you’re annoying.

To others, you’re hilarious.

To some, you’re selfish.

To others, you’re the person they can always rely on.

To some, you’re the villain in their story.

To others, you’re the person who helped them through a difficult time.

And somewhere in amongst all those versions is the actual you.

Flawed.

Complicated.

Occasionally brilliant.

Occasionally a complete bloody idiot.

Trying your best.

Getting things wrong.

Learning.

Growing.

Making mistakes.

Making memories.

Doing what we all do.

Living.

I once heard someone say that everyone has a version of you.

They all got the version of you they deserved.

I don’t know if that’s entirely true.

But I do know this.

I’m no longer interested in spending my life trying to control which version people have.

They can have whatever version they’ve created.

They can like me.

They can dislike me.

They can misunderstand me.

They can make assumptions.

They can even think I’m a bit of a dick.

That’s their business.

I’ll carry on being me.

And perhaps that’s one of the things I wish I’d learned a lot earlier.

You don’t have to be liked by everyone.

You don’t have to be understood by everyone.

You don’t even have to explain yourself every bloody time someone gets you wrong.

Sometimes you can simply shrug…

…and carry on.

Because peace is worth more than approval.

And honestly?

I’d much rather be comfortable being myself than spend the rest of my life trying to be somebody everyone else is comfortable with.

So, if there’s one thing I wish I’d started doing earlier in life?

Not giving a shit.

Well…

Not giving quite so much of a shit.

There are still people I care about.

There are still opinions that matter to me.

There are still times when I get things wrong and need to listen.

But the imaginary audience in my head?

The people I thought were constantly judging me?

The endless worrying about what someone, somewhere, might think?

I’ve finally told them to fuck off.

And do you know what?

It’s wonderfully peaceful.

Stay safe,

BC