Every now and then, I get hyper-fixated on one part of my life that could use some work. It is never meant to tear me apart. It is a check-in, looking for small ways to put myself first and grow into someone I’m proud of. Lately, I’ve realized just how much time I spend worrying about my self-image.
I’ve never been someone who struggled with confidence, but growing up, I was always aware of how other people saw me. It showed up in the little things: wanting Nike soccer cleats instead of Adidas, needing an iPhone instead of an Android, following whatever fashion trend was of the era.
Part of it comes from being a victim of consumerism, and part of it comes from being easily influenced. Honestly, I’m always easily influenced by buying new stuff thanks to TikTok.
I never tried to dim my personality or hide my own creative touch in how I dressed or did my hair, but I wanted to blend in. Anyone who’s survived high school knows that the easiest way to avoid unwanted attention is to act, dress, and exist exactly like everyone else. What I didn’t realize was how much that mindset stuck with me.
I’ve always taken pride in my reputation, being kind, respectful, and a “good kid.” I cared about how people knew me, how they remembered me. People come and go, and if it’s in my control, I want them to walk away with a positive memory of who I was, not whatever version of me existed at the end.
I especially wanted to impress my parents. I grew up emphasizing gratitude: saying thank you when someone invited me into their home or gave me a ride to practice. I wanted adults to think I deserved my accomplishments, that I was a good friend, a good partner, someone they’d trust around their kids.
Being at college has shifted things. When I’m here, I barely think about people from home: my old classmates, teachers, or community parents. The second I go back, though, all those opinions flood my mind. Suddenly, I’m nervous to walk into the grocery store.
My friends and I call the one nearby Dollar General “opp city” or “enemy territory” because no matter when you go, you’ll run into someone you know, usually the last person you wanted to see. I hate going alone, and when I do, I’m in and out as fast as possible.
Why do I care so much about who I see and who sees me? Am I scared they’ll judge me? That they will remember the one bad thing they heard about me? Maybe that’s why I cling so tightly to my reputation, trying to minimize whatever assumptions people might make.
It wasn’t until recently that I realized this obsession with preserving my self-image was doing more harm than good. I was so focused on how others might perceive me that I started acting in ways that hurt the people in my life.
I wouldn’t post pictures on my Instagram if I thought they gave off the wrong vibe. I spent three days debating how to post on Valentine’s Day. I used to ask the boy I was seeing to name everyone in the room we were about to walk through, just so I could mentally prepare myself to pass by them. I don’t hold hands in public (especially around my parents) because I’ve convinced myself that showing affection is “embarrassing.”
I’ve had countless conversations with someone who always asks me why. Why do I care so much? Why do I let other people’s opinions take up so much space in my mind? Why do I think about what people might think instead of just living my life?
I avoided doing or saying harmless things, going to harmless places, and posting harmless pictures. Sometimes it even came across like I was embarrassed to be seen with certain people or ashamed of who I’ve become, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
This semester, I want to work on letting that go. I want to free myself from the pressure of maintaining a perfect self-image. I want to be present instead of worrying about how something might look later. The only way to let people love you, know you, and experience the full, authentic version of you is to know yourself well enough so that nobody else’s opinion can threaten that.