WHITE NOISE

August 9, 2026

I’ve been thinking about why we care so much about what other people think about us. Probably because I keep seeing these reels about your biggest critics secretly being your biggest fans, or the people talking about you are usually doing less than you.

Maybe. I’m sure that’s true sometimes. But my brain is never really satisfied with the simple answer, which would actually be far more convenient.

Because then I start wondering what “doing less” even means and why that would automatically make someone’s opinion irrelevant. I’ve met incredibly accomplished people whose advice I wouldn’t take and people with completely different lives from mine who have made me think about something differently. More successful doesn’t necessarily mean more insightful. Sometimes they are more miserable with strong credentials.

And I don’t think everyone who doesn’t like me is secretly jealous of me either. Some people probably just don’t like me. That seems reasonable. I don’t like everyone.

Then I start thinking about the talking-shit part because this has happened enough times in my own life that I’m genuinely curious about it. Why would you talk shit about someone to a person you know is their friend? Do you want it to get back to them? Do you assume the friend agrees with you? Are you testing that? Or did you just not think about it?

We can spend a lot of time looking for some deeper motive when sometimes people are just thoughtless.

But then my brain goes to the friend.

Why exactly are you repeating this to me?

Are you telling me because there is something I genuinely need to know? Are you protecting me? Are you trying to hurt my feelings? Or are you repeating something under the guise of someone else said this because it’s something you actually want to say to me directly?

That one changes things for me.

Especially if you know me well. If you know I’m sensitive about something and you repeat a hurtful comment about that exact thing, I’m probably going to wonder why.

If you didn’t know I was sensitive about it, I might wonder how well you know me. If you did know, then I’m wondering why you didn’t think some care was required within our relationship.

And that does change my trust.

It doesn’t necessarily mean the friendship ends or that I even say anything about it. But I notice it. Something changes in how I see the relationship because now I know something about you that I didn’t know before.

And maybe you genuinely thought you were doing the right thing. That’s possible too.

Then I’m thinking about myself because I know I have areas where I’m more sensitive to criticism. There are things someone could say about me that wouldn’t bother me at all and then something else can hit exactly the right spot and I’m reacting before I’ve really thought about why.

Was it because there was truth in what they said?

Maybe.

Was it because I already feel insecure about that particular thing?

Also maybe.

Would the exact same comment have bothered me if someone else had said it? Would it have bothered me a year ago? Would it bother me a year from now?

Something striking a chord doesn’t necessarily mean the criticism has value. Sometimes someone has just managed to land on an insecurity I already had. I think that part is mine to own because otherwise I’m giving the comment more meaning simply because it hurt.

I’m curious by nature.

Not necessarily in the first five minutes. Sometimes I’m just pissed off.

Eventually, though, I want to know why.

Why did I react that way? Why did they say it? Is there something I haven’t considered? Am I defensive because there’s something there or because it hurt? Is this actually about me at all?

I find it interesting that we seem to become less curious as adults when our worlds are generally more expansive.

Being an adult doesn’t make me an expert. It just means I’ve likely had more experiences and more time on earth.

If anything, those experiences have shown me how much I don’t know. I’ve been certain about things and changed my mind. I’ve misunderstood people. I’ve been misunderstood. I’ve learned things from people I wouldn’t have expected to learn from. Life keeps showing me new things, so I don’t know why getting older would mean I should have fewer questions.

I probably have more.

And curiosity doesn’t mean I have to agree with someone. I can wonder why they think something about me and still think they’re wrong.

Sometimes something bothers me because it hits an insecurity I already had and that’s really all it was.

Other times I sit with something longer. Maybe there is some truth in it. Maybe I don’t particularly enjoy that possibility.

I also think much more now about who something is coming from. Not because someone has to have certain credentials before I listen to them. That doesn’t make much sense to me either. Someone can be incredibly accomplished and still have terrible judgement. Someone with far less experience than me might see something I’ve completely missed. I don’t know that there’s any useful hierarchy to it.

I think intent matters to me more.

So does the relationship.

There are people I trust enough that I would want them to tell me something difficult, even knowing it might hurt my feelings. I would hope the people close to me know that about me too.

Which is probably why I keep coming back to the other kind.

The comment that wasn’t something I needed to know. It wasn’t affecting my life. It wasn’t something a friend needed to warn me about. It was just something someone said about me somewhere else.

Maybe it would have been white noise.

But now I know about it.

And maybe that’s the part I’m most curious about.

Why did you think I needed to know?