A good friend once told me that one of the benefits of aging is you don’t care as much. That is, you don’t give a flying fig what others think. About you or anything else.
I’m not there yet. I still care – not about what others think but in the way that I am still affected by circumstances. I have always been very sensitive. And perceptive.
Not a great combination. You don’t tend to miss much. I pick up on the slightest change in the atmosphere – be it someone’s mood, look, or anything else.
In the past those kinds of things would consume me for weeks or months at a time. Naturally, I would assume it must have been something I did or said.
Of course, it was never actually about me.
But you don’t realize that when you’ve been criticized your whole life. When you’ve been told something’s wrong with you enough times, eventually you believe it.
I understand this now. And I will never make that mistake again. Now my go-to thought is, what’s wrong with them? Because any behavior that is not normal speaks volumes.
About them.
A recent disappointment in the guy department bothered me for a day or so. It was an awkward situation that left me feeling mortified. Perhaps I had misread the signals?
I came to understand it was not me who should feel bad. I had done nothing wrong. In fact, I had done everything right. Whatever that was about was about him, not me.
Perhaps I’m just getting more jaded with time. I can’t deny that that is definitely a factor. I’m getting to the point where I don’t really care if I never have another relationship.
But then I was out walking somewhere and all of a sudden I had this incredible sense of freedom. In that moment nothing mattered except for the feeling.
Maybe that’s what my friend is talking about. If so, nothing better. I have wasted too much of my time as it is, thinking about things over which I have no control.
I look at it as a sign of better things to come.
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