Birthdays have traditionally been a good time for me to take stock of my life and assess things. Since 30, I’ve tried to really think about the growth I have or haven’t been able to accomplish, where I am, and where I want to go. Turning 35 is no different.

Leading up to my birthday, I’ve been thinking about the concept of identity and what mine was. What defined me? If thoughts lead to actions and actions lead to habits when then lead to character, what are my thoughts and what do they say about me? Who am I and who do I want to be?

I went for a walk today to clear my head and think on the first part of that question; who I am. It was hard for me to discern who I am without thinking about who I’ve been. In doing so, looking back on my life, I came to a realization that shook me to my core; something that I was afraid to face even within the comfort and confines of my inner monologue.

It feels awkward even to type this, even though this blog is dedicated to the expression of thoughts and feelings I otherwise wouldn’t be able to. I’m sitting here, taking a slow breath to work up the gumption to type it. Here it goes.

I care what people think about me.

Anyone that’s known me for a long time and has talked about the subject of what people think would and should know that I practically pride myself on the exact opposite of that sentiment. Because it’s how I’ve genuinely felt at a conscious level and in action for most of my life. Or so I thought.

In probing further into this, I derived some really enlightening things that I hope can help shape my attitude towards myself in the future. This may be splitting hairs, but I think the nature of this feeling is this:

It’s not so much that I care what people think about me. It’s that I care about how I’m accepted.

An example. Timmy is a kid that wants to learn how to skateboard. It’s a dream of his. It’s what he’s always wanted to do. He accepts that part of himself. It makes him happy. Only he never actually tries because in his mind he knows that his friends will make fun of him for wanting to skateboard. He knows that his parents will be overly protective. He knows that he could fall and hurt himself. So he just represses that feeling and moves on with his life.

To me, Timmy doesn’t care what people think to the extent it affects his conclusion about himself. It’s that his caring about what people think affects his actions.

That distinction has pretty much come to define my life, I’m partially sad to say and mostly happy to have realized. Took me 20 years or so, but there it is.

My mom reminds me from time to time that as a kid I was really outgoing. That I was social. That I made a lot of friends, and that it was easy for me to make friends. That all changed in high school. I’ve written enough about the details of those events, but the punchline is is that I became something of a shut-in. I developed hermit-like tendencies that define me to this day.

I spent a lot of my twenties being largely standoffish to people. Influenced by my general perfectionist mindset and the want to hide flaws that comes along with it, my reaction to this aversion to judgment and assessment was to be closed off. No one can opt to not accept me if I never ‘offer’ myself to begin with.

And so I became cold. I would not talk much in social settings. I didn’t volunteer for stuff. Try new stuff. Because I was scared. Not so much because of what people would think of me, but out of fear of what else would be added to the pile.

I like video games. I mostly feel I am a pretty big geek. And I like that. That’s my conclusion about myself and I would feel good about it, right up until I faced society at large or on a smaller scale.

In light of this, when I say I don’t care what people think of me I mean to say that I don’t want to change my values or my interests to fit into any social group or setting. I choose and have chosen to be true to who I am. It’s that I spent most of my life being absolutely certain that nobody would like who I was, which creates a crossroads of sorts.

How did I handle this feeling? By delving further inward. I wouldn’t express much, if any pride in my interests or accomplishments. I wouldn’t explore interests past a certain point and wouldn’t socialize past a certain extent.

I became lonely. The cost of feeling that you’re not going to be anyone’s cup of tea and being fundamentally okay with that means that you are on an island of your own making and design. Sure, you maintain truth to yourself and your integrity but your perceptions have created a world where it’s you versus its entirety. Or maybe not necessarily set against it. Just not a part of it.

I think it’s why I’m so introspective. I think it’s why I’m such a hermit. I think it’s why my already natural inclinations towards introversion are embraced in action and the latent extrovert in me remained largely repressed for most of my life. It’s why I’m so independent and wanting to prove to myself that I can get through life on my own. It’s why I don’t like accepting help or consideration from others. And it’s why I have been happy with myself in some instances but not necessarily with my life.

That conclusion of non-acceptance has cost me a great deal.

But, in some ways I’m really proud of myself. 30 was a big turning point for me. I knew I wanted to make changes. Having realized this, I can see the ‘why’ whereas before the reason why was just because I was unhappy. I never truly understood why I was unhappy. Back then, I at least had the presence of mind to know there was a problem, even if I didn’t know what it was. And I took steps in a direction I thought would find a solution, even if I didn’t quite know what the solution was either. Reading that back makes me realize how blind I was in the whole process of self-development. And still am.

But I’m proud that I wanted to make changes. I started. Somewhere. Somehow. And slowly things are starting to make some kind of sense.

So what does this mean for the future? I’m honestly not sure. I think realizing this will be a great asset in social situations where my general inclination is to withdraw. I could challenge that thought by posing the question that maybe I am merely putting too much stock in how accepted I am or am not going to be.

If casting and streaming has taught me anything, it’s that I might be plenty surprised by what people think of me and how I am accepted. I also have learned what it feels like to not be accepted by some, and that it’s not the end of the world. That it’s not something to fear or feel down about. That’s okay, and that I’d be okay. For that I will be eternally thankful, and for that I have been made a better person.

I’m hoping this realization helps me to be more open to people, and that it helps me to better feel like I can express myself in ways other than a blog post.

I suppose only time will tell.