Stop trying to be special. Do this instead.
So much time and energy are wasted on trying to feel special.
Don’t get me wrong. There’s no problem with wanting to stand out. I work in advertising, so I spend a lot time tapping into that desire. People buy makeup, cars and experiences to feel a certain way. And that’s all fine, unless your entire self-worth depends on it.
When I was younger, I envied the people I perceived as being special in some way. Maybe they had famous parents. Maybe they were great at art. Maybe they had an amazing sense of style. Or maybe they just had really good taste in music.
Which always brought me back to the question.
Why wasn’t I any of the things I thought were special?
My self-worth hinged on the answer — which, of course, isn’t at all healthy. At one point in my youth, I even thought I was too mainstream and ordinary to ever be interesting. I liked Taylor Swift, cheap beer, and cats. I wrote love stories in secret. God, I even do brunch on weekends. Brunch!
I even had a friend say to my face, “You’re like, so mainstream.” Yeah, that happened. And I know it’s a pretty shallow thing to get hurt about, but I was too young to know better. Alexa, play Brutal by Olivia Rodrigo.
If I was like, so mainstream, how can I possibly be worthy of being among all these amazing, unique people?
So I was anxious. All the time. Trying to be worthy. Trying to be unique. Trying to be interesting. Trying to prove I was a quality person. Pretending to be someone that wasn’t my basic-as-hell self.
Faking it was exhausting because I didn’t like or connect with who I was. To placate my ego, my self-talk consisted of judging others and finding their flaws. Just so I could be convinced of some faux superiority. Which made no sense, because my sense of superiority was based on things I didn’t truly like or care about.
The whole experience was unpleasant. It made me an energy vampire. Negative, nervous, and egotistical to boot. I’m sure people found me off-putting.
Something had to change. I had to get out of this funk. Trying to find something unique about myself was exhausting.
So I quit the chase.
In simplest terms, I gave up.
Maybe age had something to do with it. One fine day, I just did what I never had the guts to do: I admitted my basicness to myself. I pretty much threw up my hands and muttered, “Eh, I’m not that unique, but so what?”
And the world didn’t end. It didn’t matter that I had poor taste in music, that I read cheesy romance novels, that I enjoy coffee from McDonald’s (okay, you can judge me for that). So what if I enjoy the occasional pop culture gossip about the Kardashians, and have no qualms picking Tiger Beer over fine wine? All these may be basic things, but… so what?
This was a breakthrough for me, at least socially. Because when you get honest with yourself, you start getting honest with other people, too. You become okay with admitting what you like, and what you don’t… and you no longer care what people think.
And the magical part?
People start to do the same with you.
Honesty breeds honesty. When you’re not putting on a show, people sense it. And they get comfortable because they no longer have to put up a front with you, either.
The surface things I thought defined people — their status, taste, or style — paled in comparison to their honesty about the silliest, most mundane things that made up who they were. I began to find a thrill in hearing them say:
To be honest, I…
To tell you the truth…
Well actually, I…
I don’t say this often, but…
I revel in these moments. Because beyond a person’s perceived uniqueness — which, really, was this strange, unattainable cool quota I created to torture myself — were their true, authentic, human selves. When a person is honest, it’s a chance to see and appreciate who they are.
And this connection, to me, became more important than trying to be special.
So forget the burden of being special; it’s a lonely, anxious road. Spend your energy on seeking honesty instead. From yourself and others. Being around others isn’t about being worthy; it’s about being compassionate and accepting about the smallest, unlikeliest things about another person — their quirks, anxieties, and habits. In some instances, it’s about finding humour and appreciation in those very real, human qualities.
Think back to the people in your life who made you feel comfortable. Doesn’t it always feel good whenever we meet a person who allows us to be who we really are? That’s the person we should all aim to be.
