Why I Stopped Caring What People Think

Because we don’t get to choose our circumstances… and because it was hurting. I think now. In fact, so do tens of millions. If anything, the current state of our world feels more dire than ever before, and I worry that fear-mongering makes the problem worse. Because…

In hindsight, I wish I would have stopped worrying about what people think. Why? Because the world is not a fun place…. No matter how confident you are, there will be situations when others react with fear, disapproval, or indifference due to the lack of information. That’s why I’m writing this blog! You’ll see on my website my “Top Ten Tips for Surviving Life, the Universe, and Everything” : Top Ten Tips for Surviving Life, the Universe, and Everything.

You see, I used to believe so strongly in the power of the internet, and the power of a blog, that I would make a post once or twice a week, and try to share my thoughts. In other words, I believed that I could be in a position of influence, by keeping a blog. Because…

It makes the people who hate you, who tell you to kill yourself, feel less. It makes you more visible. It makes you look better. It’s a great outlet for our fears. It lets us vent, and have a little fun. It’s an outlet for our frustrations. It gives someone who has felt lost for an extended period of time the chance to get their mind back into the proper gear after a few months away. It’s a great place for us to bond, to support each other, and to feel safe and confident (in our own skin) to ask for a little extra help. There. I feel better.

But now I know better. Now what? I need to keep blogging to keep a constant pressure on the world at large to notice my thoughts, and to think on them.

I need to keep it personal, so I can keep it sane. I need to keep it professional, so I can keep my mind clear and my emotions in check.  And, most importantly, I need to keep blogging, so I can still feel connected to the community I’ve created, and to the people who enjoy the blog.  I do not want to give up blogging.  But I can’t keep pretending to myself that I’m cool, as a blogger who wrote something good or thoughtful or even mildly funny every time I go to the bathroom.  People are noticing my pain.

People want to know why I do it.  People want to know… what it is that my life experience has taught me, what it has taught me that has allowed this blog to survive in the darkest of times, that has allowed this blog to give me an identity… without having to compromise it for success.  If my blog is failing, it is because I was going to die anyway.

When I was on my deathbed, I had this huge, overwhelming wave of panic, because every one who I was closest to and connected to was no longer with us.  All I could think of was that I was never going to make it to the end.  That I would end up screaming in vain because death is never a happy thought, and it wasn’t something I could plan for or control.

That, to me, is the only thing that made me think twice about the death of my own life.  The realization that the only way to be safe was to stay alive.  This blog was meant to give my thoughts on what had happened, so they can help my friends and family understand.

I know I will die, but I have a new philosophy: “The only thing more dangerous than a dying person is a dying community.” So I say “keep on dying!” You don’t hear that much anymore, you must think I’m crazy.  I’m just kidding.