My Instagram description used to include “carefree.” My husband, knowing me all too well, smirked and said, “You? Carefree? No way.”
At first, it stung. I can be carefree! I can be happy-go-lucky! But honestly, he’s right. At my core, I’m not. And when it comes down to it, I’m okay with that.
“Carefree” is not exactly an aspired trait for me. I thought it could describe me, because I am a happy person. I can look for (and often find!) the good in anyone, in any situation. Too often, though, that is my downfall.
I could be described as a pushover, in many instances. I’m almost afraid of disappointing people, to the point that I will go out of my way to ensure the opposite.
But I don’t have control of other people’s emotions, and I shouldn’t.
Nor should they have control over mine.
Too many of my decisions have been shaped by what other people might think. Not what they actually think, mind you, but what they might. I am afraid of imaginary repercussions.
This way of thinking has shaped everything from my dinner choices to the color of my hair. “Who am I to have fun, brightly-colored hair?” I would say. So, the most daring I have gone is jet black with a few tiny streaks of blue during my pixie-cut days. Yeah, I know.
Lame.
Inspired by @catahstrophic L no makeup–R with, not only do I feel beautiful in both but my hair is so on point! pic.twitter.com/NIN2B7af2Y
— Mana Drake (@ManaDrake) November 17, 2016
You know who’s not lame? My friend Mana. She owns her hair, her image. She decides what she wants and goes to get it. You keep doing you, girl.
I want to step out of my front door and feel confident — in my life decisions, in how I portray myself both physically and otherwise — because, deep down, I know that it actually doesn’t matter one bit what others think of me.
So get ready, ’cause here I come.
