For years I’ve been told to not take things so personally.

For whatever reason, I convinced myself that that would make me a better person. In a world where prejudice, misconceptions and false narratives are all rolled into a verbal nonsense we call our own personal opinions, one wonders whether it’s worth listening to anyone these days.

I used to change so much of my behaviour and who I was because of someone else. The way I ate, the way I spoke and the way I dressed. Constantly trying to make other people happy with me. Constantly trying to fit in. I fell into countless traps of facades to try and make other people like me.

The worst part was whenever I questioned it, whenever I needed an answer as too why I was “too much” or needed to change …all I got was a simple 4-word answer that drove me insane.

 

Don’t take it personally.

 

I thought that was the answer…. but I realised that’s who I was. I am personal, I am emotional, I wear my heart on my sleeve and I listen to everything you say. I not only hear it, but I also digest it, it manifests and it feeds so much of who I am. Call it unhealthy, call it a gaping character flaw, but regardless… it’s me.

Being brash, not thinking, speaking first and asking questions later, is who I am. Raw, real and no bullshit.

 

I used to think that somehow it was my obligation to try my best to be more acceptable for the wrong people around me. But I think the moment I realised how detrimental that could be, was when I noticed the difference in my edge.

 

 

My whole life I’ve been competitive. I loved trying to be quicker, faster and stronger. Being smart and sharp, being big and strong, being quick and witty, these are all things that fed off a desire to be better.

It branched out into everything, from sport to the classroom.

And it all came down to taking things personally.

Now I don’t mean that I would harbour any resentment or ill will to anyone who would criticize me. Rather, I would listen and understand where they were coming from, whether or not it was genuine and then use it to be better. Their words would echo in my mind and when the time came, it gave me the fuel to maintain my edge.

 

And then I lost it. All to the wrong people.

They took it as me being too passionate. They wanted me to be apathetic, dry and looking to them for constant validation. They wanted to control me in an effort to feel better about themselves. And they did that by telling me that when I took things to heart, that I was in the wrong.

I chose to become a carbon copy of people who would do nothing more than dig up whatever it was that made me unique and burn it into a fire of malice and selfishness. I chose to listen to them and not take it personally. To not see it as an attack on what made me who I was, but rather a form of so-called criticism that would “help” me.

I chose to stop caring and to stop living in passion.

But when I spent another day, dozing into a tiring spell of depression, feeling sorry for myself for the hundredth time, I started to think about how it all went wrong.

 

I began to blame myself, not because of hate, but because I succumbed to the will of other people. I bent over backwards and it ended up breaking whatever it was inside of me that made me light up. I did exactly what they wanted. I didn’t take it to heart, I just took it as me being never good enough.

I should’ve taken it personally. It fed me. It’s the reason why I’m good at so many things, and, more importantly,  it would’ve allowed me to see through their lies.

Somewhere along the way, I drifted way off course. I chose to believe that there was something incredibly wrong with the way I was and I lost faith. All because I wanted to fit in. I chose to accept the words of snakes instead of listening to myself and those that mattered.

Having minimal confidence and virtually no self-esteem meant that I constantly looked for validation from the wrong people. Trying desperately to cling to whatever idea would best fit others, the constant pushy, incessant, whiney, need to be something I will never ever be. And at the end of the day, it took a lot of time to admit that I was walking the wrong path.

 

I’m not a coward, not to anyone else and most definitely not to myself.

 

So when I had come to the realisation that it was all for nothing. That trying to please everyone else was actually the worst for me, I had to also take responsibility for who I actually am, and realise who and what mattered most.

 

I came to the conclusion that in the real world, the one where depression and social anxiety are the biggest killers of young men, the best foot forward is to accept what you are, remain passionate about what keeps you alive and disregard the people who plain and simply do not matter.

 

 

I realise now more than ever that that group is consisting of fewer and fewer people.

I am not ashamed to admit that I’ve spent many nights beating my head against a wall or trying to drown myself in the shower mourning the loss of people I thought were important.

 

I killed myself on the inside for not being better, to succumbing to the will of those that were irrelevant.
The toll of stripping anything that made me unique to be generic and to be like them was a travesty. It was toxic and poisoned my existence, and I’m ashamed now more than ever that I let that happen.

I wasted so much time…. and I will never get that back.

I should’ve just respected that any growth would come in time, that my way was who I was and just listened to the right people.

 

Being so worried about what I would be tomorrow, I forgot about how good I had to be today.

But today I put that to the side.

Today, I say no to the fake and accept what’s real.

Today, I cast aside the poisonous people.

Today, I look in the mirror and acknowledge who I am.

Today, I take everything, I do not shield myself from the bad, or try and change for the wrong reasons.

Today, I live for me.

Today, I take it personally.