Rebuilding Rob

What’s something you used to worry about but don’t anymore?

I used to worry about what other people thought of me. Growing up, I used to hear Mother say “What will the neighbors think?” And even now, on the doorstep of eighty years old and dementia-riddled, she’ll have moments of lucidity where she’ll still say, “What will the neighbors think?”

That constant fear of public perception feels disingenuous at best and utterly deceptive at worst. That’s not to say my mom was a monster—she yelled just like anyone else’s parent. But there is something deeply two-faced about being consumed by what the public thinks of you while giving zero thought to how you actually act behind closed doors. I’ve always been the black sheep of my otherwise conservative family—not necessarily politically, but just very straight-laced. On some level, I think I leaned into that rebelliousness when I was younger simply because I wanted to be different from everyone else. But the trick about playing a part is that if you put on an act long enough, it eventually becomes who you are.

The Weight of the Hallways

It did a number on my self-esteem growing up, too. In junior high and roughly about halfway through high school, when I would walk the halls, I looked at my feet. I didn’t dare make eye contact with people. And when I heard people laughing, I automatically assumed they were laughing at me. Yes, that’s insecurity, but it’s insecurity almost taken to a narcissistic level. Who the hell was I to think that everybody was so hung up on what I was doing, let alone whether or not I looked like a fool?

Confidence isn’t something you just conjure out of thin air; you earn it by stacking a few victories. For me, the watershed moment of high school was a trip to France. In fact, I literally divide my high school experience in half: the two years before France, and the two years after. That trip was an opportunity to finally come out of my shell. School acquaintances saw what I was really like twenty-four hours a day—there’s no maintaining a façade when you share that level of constant intimacy with people. Around that same time, I started actually flirting with girls, getting real interactions, and seeing positive responses. I realized I didn’t have to look down at my feet anymore. One day, it just dawned on me that people laughing didn’t mean they were laughing at me.

The College Reality Check

Sometime later, the rest of the puzzle clicked into place. I really remember hitting that hard truth during college. I had gotten an apartment in a complex a couple of miles off campus, and a dozen of us college kids formed a pretty close circle of friends. Of course, every group has its toxic element—in our case, a couple who acted as shit-starting gossipmongers. For whatever reason, they had it in for us. They made up things, lied to other neighbors, and claimed we said things we never uttered.

Those two were obvious assholes, and you can’t fix that. But what frustrated me the most was that the rest of our supposed friends—people I thought knew us better than that—started casting judgment based on the lies of a toxic couple. To our credit, we fought back as much as we could, but eventually, X1 and I reached a breaking point: if people are going to believe that garbage, we don’t need them.

The Freedom of the Villain Arc

That was the moment I truly understood that no matter what you do, you’re going to be the asshole in somebody’s version of the story. People are gonna hate you. People are gonna laugh at you. People are gonna come to whatever conclusions they want if they prefer to write a fictional narrative about who you are.

I cannot even begin to explain how liberating it is to finally let that go. You become so much less insecure. You just do what you need to do, live a good life, do the right thing, and let people cast whatever judgment they want. Don’t get me wrong—that’s not an excuse to be a bad person. There’s still common sense and good decency. I’m not going to go around terrorizing the neighborhood, keeping people up, launching fireworks, or letting the boys run amok. But once you stop caring what the neighbors think, you finally stop acting. You just get to be authentic. And if somebody’s going to hate you for simply being yourself, well, that’s on them.

Rebuilding a life takes grit, consistency, and a lot of ‘Option C’ thinking. Having crossed the 1,000-day milestone, I’m now charting the territory beyond. The mission remains the same: No glitz. Just the work. New to the blog? Start your journey here to see the blueprint and the ‘Tricorder’ perspective behind the rebuild.

Thanks for stopping by Rebuilding Rob. Be sure to like 👍, comment and subscribe below. It’s greatly appreciated! Also, feel free to follow me on social media and check out my recent posts!

• What will the neighbors think? 
• The Fine Print of “I’m All In”
• No glitz. Just the repeat.
• The Look
• Geography of a Rebuild

AI art created by Google Gemini 

The article what will the neighbors think?” first appeared on Rebuilding Rob.