(Photo credit NinaZed via Flickr Creative Commons.)
Over the weekend, Eric and I agreed to attend two parties, two days in a row. For most people, this isn’t too big of a deal. For me, this is a surefire panic attack.
And dear lord, did I panic.
Like many people with anxiety, what other people think about me is paramount. If I knew that in a room of 50 people, 49 people absolutely loved me, I’d be preoccupied with trying to figure out why that one person didn’t like me and how I could turn that around.
So, the fact that the two events were both with Eric’s friends didn’t help. I had gotten it in my head that they just didn’t like me. I had no real evidence to back this up, but it was a thought I couldn’t shake, and I’m sure will still plague me occasionally.
At some point over the weekend, after revealing these insecurities to someone else and finding out that they’re not that uncommon after all, I realized that most people are so distracted concerned with what other people think about them that they don’t have time to think about or judge me as much as I think they do.
Though this may be a somewhat depressing statement, and also one that I’m sure many people would debate, I find it very liberating to know that, even if I do something stupid, or wear something I’m not completely in love with, most, if not all, people won’t notice a thing. Hopefully, this realization will help you as much as it helps me.
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