I Really Don’t Care

I love to make people happy, make them smile, make them belly laugh. It makes me happy when others are happy. I also think I’m pretty funny. So, I’ve got that going for me! I really care about how others feel, their emotions, what they are going through, and how God is working in their lives. I care about what makes them happy, what makes them sad, the funny things their kids say, the struggles they face, their success stories, their hard work.

I care about the kids we have at church. I care about how their week was, the silly jokes they make up that make no sense at all, the same story about their little brother for the fourteenth time, the stick people pictures they draw for me, and their prayer requests and praises. I care about their dog that died three years ago that they keep requesting prayer for. I care that they miss their parent when they are out of town but are so excited they are coming home this week that they can’t stop talking about it! I care about the quiet ones, the loud ones, the shy ones, the outgoing ones, the obedient ones, the ones that act up, the calm ones, the crazy ones, the ones that are easy to love and the ones that challenge me constantly (but I love them anyway), the ones who want to hug me and the ones I can’t even get a high five from, the rule followers and the ones who just want attention so desperately. I care about them all.

But…

I really don’t care what other people think of me.

I don’t.

I use to care so much about what other people thought of me. And I guess my anxiety still brings that up from time to time. But the real me, the non-anxious side of me, doesn’t care what other people think.

Being a teenager is hard. You aren’t a kid anymore but you aren’t an adult either. You’re just stuck in this weird transition where people think you don’t know anything but yet expect you to have it all together. Being a teenager is a lot like going through a corn maze with no outlet. You’re just stuck. People telling you to go left, no go right, no LEFT! You’re confused and frustrated. There’s no end in sight. You have no idea what you are doing and you’re probably just walking in circles.

High school was hard for me. I cared so much about what other people thought of me that it literally made me sick. I wanted everyone to like me and tried to fit in everywhere. But somehow, I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. I cared what classmates thought of me, teachers, family, everyone. It stressed me out.

As an adult…18…21…25….

I still cared about what other people thought of me. It didn’t matter that I was trying my best. I felt like my best wasn’t good enough for other people. Was my wedding good enough? Was my house/apartment good enough? My car? The way I dressed? How I talked? Was I good enough for other people? What do they think!?

This whole “I’m not good enough” thinking continued to make me sick. My anxiety got worse. Depression showed up at my door uninvited and decided to stay. I was making myself sick worrying about what other people thought of me. I cried a lot, I ate a lot, I gained a lot, I slept a lot, I worried a lot, I was depressed a lot…

All because I cared so much about what other people thought of me.

“It is dangerous to be concerned with what others think of you, but if you trust the Lord, you are safe.” – Proverbs 29:25

Does it really matter what others think of me? No.

There is something I do care about – I want people to know that Jesus loves them, I love Jesus, and I love them.

That’s what matters.

It doesn’t matter that I have a thick southern accent. It doesn’t matter that I’m short. It doesn’t matter that I love wearing mismatched socks. It doesn’t matter that I hate ketchup. It doesn’t matter that I call my dogs “my babies.” It doesn’t matter that I have a cyst on my face, that I love wearing ugly shoes, that none of the furniture in my apartment matches, that I don’t wear makeup often, or that I have a messy car. It doesn’t matter. It does not matter one bit what other people think. If they don’t like when I wear a purple polka dot sock and a yellow striped sock with my houndstooth printed shoes, OH WELL. The funkiness makes me happy. I like it.

God loves me. Funky shoe/sock combo, messy car, southern twang, and all! His opinion of me is the only one that matters. And he loves me. And he loves you.

I’m slowly learning to look past the negativity. It isn’t worth dwelling on. Getting sad about the past or anxious about the future takes away from all the beauty in the moment! I know it’s hard to not worry about those things. But let me tell you, learning to let go and not care about that stuff, and just letting God take control is so totally worth it.

I say this all the time, but it’s true. God wants me to trust him. It even said so in that verse!! The approval of others doesn’t matter. Sally Sue down the road can’t save me. Only Jesus can. Forget what others think and trust in the Lord. He is so good. So very, very good.

God, you are so, so awesome. You made me the way I am. You know and love me and all of my imperfections! You created me this way, a short, southern girl with the inability to match socks and lots of humor. Thank you for making me so unique. Thank you for making each of us so different, so that we are able to shine in different ways! Please help me to trust you always. You are so good. Thank you for everything. Amen.

AMS