Respectfully, no one cares

Hi friend!

So… did you notice?

We missed a Sunday together.

You should’ve received an email from me two Sundays ago, but for the first time in the history of this newsletter, I decided not to send it.

For a number of reasons (which I might touch on later). But the one I want to focus on today is this: the power in intentionally doing things that free you from the shackles of “what will they think?”

I’m really proud of this little newsletter-shaped project. It’s arguably been one of the few consistencies in my life this past year — no matter the location, time zone, or season of life, every other Sunday, we send the email.

But last weekend, things felt different. I felt different.

And one thing I’ve learned to trust, even when it makes no sense, is my gut. So I listened. But of course, it was still hard.

“Inconsistency kills businesses.”
“People will stop trusting you.”
“You’re going to disappoint the community.”

The internal (mean) voices got really loud.

And yes, maybe all of those things could happen. But they didn’t.

Because, back to my initial question - did you even notice?

This isn’t me diminishing the impact of this newsletter, or the relationship we’ve built here, but it is a reminder that we often think people care about what we do (or don’t do)… way more than they actually do.

I missed a newsletter, and the world didn’t end. My inbox wasn’t flooded with hate.

And it made me realize how often we build invisible cages out of imagined judgment. Cages that keep us from resting, creating, trying, or showing up in new ways.

When in reality, the only person thinking about you like that… is probably you.

So that’s what we’re exploring today:

How many of your decisions are centred around the imaginary judgy eyes. And what life might look like if you stopped focusing on “them” and started prioritizing you.

As always, go find your journal, beverage, and cozy reflection spot. I have a lesson, 3 questions and a dare for you.

[A LESSON]

Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time on cramped Tokyo trains.

Trying to get anywhere during rush hour is basically a full-contact sport.

I’m usually wedged between someone sleeping, school kids laughing with their friends, couples on first dates, someone wearing too much deodorant, and someone else who clearly forgot theirs 🙃

So yeah, I spend a lot of time around people.

And yet, I couldn’t tell you a single thing about the humans I stood next to today. Nothing. Even those a few inches from my face.

And I’d bet they couldn’t tell you much about me either - definitely not that I was stressing about my hair being frizzy, or that I’d forgotten deodorant (yes, I was that person today), or that I was the annoying girl with the suitcase.

If they noticed at all, it was for a second before their attention snapped back to their own world.

That’s the harsh - but kind of liberating - truth: people really aren’t thinking about you like that.

And yet, we spend so much of our lives worrying about what other people are thinking. Replaying conversations, filtering ideas, shrinking our expression, when, statistically speaking, they’ve already moved on.

This isn’t meant in a bleak way. Of course, people care. You care about your friends, your partner, your family. You’d stop to help a stranger in need.

But it’s the little things - the hair, the outfit, the stumble, the silence - that we overinflate into evidence that we’re being constantly watched or judged. And it’s those tiny moments that keep us hidden, stiff, and smaller than we actually are.

And from a psychology standpoint, this all makes sense.

Our brains evolved to care deeply about what others think, because belonging once meant survival. Being cast out from the tribe wasn’t a metaphor; it was a death sentence. So our nervous system still scans for signs of disapproval like our life depends on it.

And despite being surrounded by billions of people, our brains are still wired for a village. It can’t process that many opinions, so instead, we create an imaginary audience.

Social psychologists call this the spotlight effect, our tendency to overestimate how much other people notice or care about our behaviour. In one famous study, researchers had participants wear a bright Barry Manilow T-shirt into a room of strangers and then guess how many people noticed it. The wearers thought half the room would, in reality, only a quarter did.

It’s not vanity. It’s wiring.

Your brain assumes you’re the main character in everyone else’s story, because you’re the main character in your own. But the truth is, everyone around you is too busy figuring out their own movie.

We can also blame our early years for this wiring (of course). As kids, our smallest actions were met with applause - you smile, take a step, say your first word, and the whole room lights up. You’re used to being watched, celebrated, mirrored back. Then you grow up, and you ace a presentation, post something vulnerable, or change your hair… and for the most part, it’s cool. But no one throws confetti.

So your brain interprets the lack of attention as danger - or worse, embarrassment - instead of the neutrality it is.

And neutrality is actually freedom.

Because the same truth applies when you’re taking a risk, trying something new, or doing something a little out of character: people probably won’t care as much as your brain insists they will.

Just think of your closest friends. When they do something new or bold, you’ll celebrate them, you love that for them, but after drinks or dinner, your focus goes back to your own life. That doesn’t make you a bad friend. It makes you human.

There are billions of BITS of information competing for our attention every second - the sounds around us, the light in the room, our body temperature, our to-do list, that message we forgot to reply to. Our brains can only process a sliver of it. So your friend’s new haircut, or your new ‘slightly out there’ boots? Cute, but not top priority.

So post the thing. Wear the outfit. Take the leap. Don’t send the email.

The audience you’re performing for probably isn’t even in the room

[3 QUESTIONS ]

1. Whose opinion are you actually afraid of?

   The next time you find yourself hesitating about ‘doing the thing,’ pause and name specifically who you’re worried about. Not the vague “they.” The real person or people. You’ll often realize the audience in your mind is either (a) faceless or (b) not worth caring about.

2. When was the last time someone else’s opinion actually changed your life, for better or worse?

   We tend to overestimate how much people’s perceptions can impact us, so look back: how often have they really?

3. What might you do differently if you believed no one was watching?
   The outfits. The words. The risks. The pauses.

[A DARE]

This week’s dare is simple but profound.

I dare you to…

do (or don’t do) something guided purely by what feels right for you.

Not what will look good. Not what will “make sense.” Not what will please or impress or protect you from imaginary judgment.

Just you, and what you want.

And if your mind is going blank, here’s a (non-exhaustive) list of the kinds of things people often don’t do because of fear of other people’s opinions — see what sparks something in you:

• Wearing the outfit you love but think is “too much”

• Dancing at a party when no one else is

• Posting the idea you can’t stop thinking about

• Saying no to a plan, even if it disappoints someone

• Saying yes to something new that feels “off brand”

• Asking the question you think you “should already know”

• Showing up alone somewhere

• Eating lunch solo without pretending to text

• Going makeup-free

• Wearing bright lipstick or no lipstick at all

• Changing your hair drastically

• Sharing your art, your writing, your opinions online

• Speaking up in a meeting

• Resting instead of performing productivity

• Starting over — a career, a city, a relationship

• Leaving the group chat unread

• Signing up for something that scares you (a class, a race, a therapy session)

• Saying you don’t want kids

• Saying you do want kids

• Admitting you care deeply about something uncool

• Unfollowing people who drain you

• Admitting you’re proud of yourself

• Saying “I don’t know” out loud

• Walking away from something that looks good on paper but feels wrong

• Crying in front of someone

• Laughing loudly

• Being the first to say “I love you”

Pick one thing. Then, do it your way.

No justification. No overexplaining.

Just the quiet, radical act of doing what’s right for you, and letting the imaginary audience fade into background.

See you on a Sunday,

L