On December 31, 2024, I woke up late in the morning and felt an eerie sense of placidity. The air was calm, my spirit undisturbed. This was not a good morning nor a bad one; it was but a morning. I got up, made a cup of coffee, scrambled some eggs and did my crossword. It was a morning I have lived many, many times, and one I will live many more times. I felt capital-O capital-K OK!
This morning was not special because it was New Year’s Eve, but because I really didn’t care. As a card-carrying birthday enjoyer and general big-deal-maker when it comes to holidays, this felt odd to me. I often rile myself up in the hours leading up to big occasions and then ruin my own experience because of the anticipation I’ve built for myself. I tend to imagine the multitude of situations that I might encounter throughout the night, the many ways that these situations may go awry, and then bask in their glorious terror. In considering this ritual I was prompted to consider that maybe the serene, emotionless emotion I was feeling is one to chase. In fact, I realized that I had a lone resolution for the coming year: to care less about myself.
This thought had been ruminating for a while. After all, 2024 was a banner year for memes. On my different feeds, more and more people shared memes openly and often, more than I can remember in years before. Previously anonymous accounts, those of high school acquaintances or ex-lovers of ex-friends, suddenly began sharing memes from tastemakers whom I perceived to be outside of their internet. Yes, I pay attention to that sort of thing. Is that embarrassing? I don’t care.
During one of my doomscrolls, I encountered a screenshot of Jemima Kirke’s Instagram story. Someone had asked her if she had any advice for unconfident young women. Her reply to this probably unconfident young woman was the following:
“I think you guys might be thinking about yourselves too much”
Whoa… I thought to myself. True… haha and I scrolled on. But wait, I pondered later. Is it really that easy?
Over the next couple of months this statement became a sort of dogma to me, sneaking its way ever so often into my subconscious until I began to embody it. On the morning of New Year's Eve, at my kitchen table, I recognized this thought and decided to institutionalize it as a part of my mental routine, my way of life. In a lot of ways, I had already been doing this. Recently I’ve decided not to care about what loud and drunken words sprayed out of my mouth to a friend-of-a-friend the night before. I’ve decided to not care that I farted at the gym while using the parallel bar leg raise machine. I’ve decided not to care that my date is going poorly and I actually can’t back up the unabashedly horny game I was talking earlier. I’ve decided not to care because, really… who am I to assume these people care that much about me?
Who am I to assume that my words or my presence leave that much of an impact on people? Like, for real? Surely that cannot be true. I am not God’s gift, and assuming that I have leagues of fans and/or rivals hanging on my every word or action, just waiting for a slip-up, is insane. To be clear, this is not coming from a lack of self-confidence or intended to be self-deprecative, but it comes from a place of intense realism. People just aren’t paying attention that much, because I’m just a guy. I like myself and I have a solid group of people who like me for me and who do pay attention to me the normal amount, but at the end of the day… I am just a guy. And that’s brilliant.
Of course, all of this is easier said than done. I do have an intention behind saying “I’ve decided to” in lieu of “I’m trying my very best to decide to”, and some hopefulness that I can speak this new perspective into existence. That being said, I’m grateful to this meme and to Jemima Kirke. This phrase has actually helped me get rid of the asinine anxiety I feel towards the interactions and moments of my life that are instantly forgotten in the minds of others but live on, kicking and screaming, for days within my little brain. I’m trying to reframe my reaction to this anxiety from “nobody cares, they didn’t think it was weird!” to “nobody cares, they probably thought it was weird because it was weird and it simply does not matter.” I’ve found great comfort in this. Though not a very soft nor kind way to speak to myself, I do feel it’s realistic. I respond well to tough love, especially if it’s honest.
I’m not trying to suggest that everyone must explore this train of thought, but my new perspective on caring or lack thereof has made me realize that… well, we should probably all think about ourselves a bit less. Reflection is totally necessary to ensure one remains self-aware, which is an important quality in adulthood. It appears to me, however, that too much reflection leads us to inflate our own sense of importance. I understand this perspective differs from more mainstream notions of how to correctly practice self-love and positivity. Keeping this in mind, if you have thoughts on this subject and would like to debate with me, please do not!
I really don’t care!
