The Day I Forgot to Care What People Think

I bumped into a mom at school today.

And she said something that really took me by surprise.

She and her husband had gotten off of social media because they were tired of the pressure they felt to keep up. The jealousy. The need for approval. The comparison.

But that's not what took me by surprise.

What took me by surprise was this: I had forgotten that that was a thing. That that was the rat race of this reality. That everybody was playing the same dumb game I had forgotten about altogether.

Because it's been a few years since I remembered that was the game we were playing here. But I didn't realize that.

And I just forgot.

Which got me thinking. And I started thinking about neurobiology.

Why is everyone comparing? And why did I forget?

Oh yes, dopamine! Because when we have something, it's a dopamine hit. When we get someone's approval, more dopamine. And in some odd way, I think there's dopamine even in the jealousy.

So how did I get out of the rat race?

I don't really know, oddly. It's not cause I chose to leave it. It's not even because I chose to quit caring. Heck, it's definitely not because I got off of social media!

It just died.

As I see it, mostly you've got two types of people (especially in my age category, people in their 30's):

Those who care and those who actively try not to care.

I'm something else. I've lost awareness that people even care.

Why?

Because I hit the bottom.

So bad, so hard, so devastatingly.

You try going around with active psychosis in the postpartum era where your body and brain fall apart at the same time.

That dopamine train stopped a long time ago.

And when I resurrected from that dark space, it wasn't to get brownie points with my high school girlfriends.

I had a different fuel source altogether.

It was my own damn self.

And at the bottom I learned something profound.

It's fake at the top.

Where it's real—that's at the bottom.

And since that day I yearn for the bottom. For the overlooked. The dismissed. The broken.

Because I know they've got the elusive pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Though it comes in many disguises, they've got exactly what I want.

Love.

And it doesn't show up on instagram.

It shows up in hair pulled back with a head hung over the toilet late at night.

It shows up in three layers of blankets because the heat went out.

It shows up on the cardboard signs.

And maybe it sounds like I'm someone up on some pedestal, sparkling and shining who has it all figured out.

Heaven knows that sure ain't the case! Check with my husband for references.

But I've found a couple of secret super powers.

The first is the super power of knowing who I am.

And the second is the super power of truly not giving two fucks.

Because my brain rewired. There wasn't any dopamine in the approval game for me anymore.

And I really can't describe this. When I remember what that felt like to care about an instagram feed, it feels devastating inside. It feels dark. It feels exhausting.

Sometimes I wonder if the path to transcendence is through courage. Courage to become who we really are. Courage to chase our dreams. Courage to say what lives inside of us even when it's not popular.

There's not a day I don't get internet hate. Or friend hate. Or family hate.

And I don't like it. But it doesn't feel personal. It feels like it stirs up some sort of painful love in me. A longing that that person who is sending hate at me could experience what I have inside.

Whatever this is.

I don't know what it is, but I like it.

It's safe.

I guess what I really want to say is this.

Some of you are in a really, really, REALLY dark place right now. Maybe you hate yourself. Maybe you've lost yourself. Maybe there's no one there for you right now.

I've been there. I've been suicidal plenty. But maybe the darkest valleys are the gift. Maybe that's where illusion dies. When the bullshit burns off.

And where hope—where love—is truly born.

At the bottom.