That Moment You Realize Your Opinion Doesn’t Actually Matter Outside of Your Own Head

It felt like both a personal tragedy as well as the biggest relief, the moment I realized, “Oh… my personal opinion doesn’t really matter all that much outside of my own head. Wait… nobody cares? This is horrible! Wait… nobody cares? Ah… this is great, actually.”

And it wasn’t just me. I now can see that regardless of their current age, so many people live their lives constantly chasing validation of their own identity. It was a sobering revelation for me to realize this about myself- and it explained how I had lived so many years of my life.

Especially in my early and mid 30s, I “needed” people to agree with my opinions: I needed to “be right”. I took on the impossible responsibility of trying to make everyone around me think like I did.

 

But now at this point in life, I am years into living with the refreshing perspective that so little of the things that people worry about actually matter… as most of those things people worry about are the things we don’t actually have any control over.

A couple months ago I came across a meme that I found particularly helpful. Granted, it was laced in profanity. So here’s my own cleaned up version:

“Stages of the Awakening”

  1. Blissful ignorance.
  2. Nothing makes sense anymore.
  3. We’re doomed.
  4. Wake up, sheeple!
  5. Get off my lawn!
  6. Realizing that becoming the most loving and joyful version of myself, despite the chaos of the world around me, is the greatest rebellion.

Part of why I am finding it so much easier to be the most loving and joyful version of myself is because I stopped seeking the “validation of being right”. Granted, I still live by strong convictions that guide my own personal decisions and my lifestyle.

But I now know if I were even able to successfully prove I am right and another person is wrong, I would not be rewarded with that person’s respect. Instead, I would be met with their resentment. That is what life has actually taught me.

The self-destructive default had been for me to attempt to gain a sense of control over others by trying to convince them to agree with our my perspective, yet what I was actually seeking was emotional connection with the people in my life.

My personal opinion doesn’t really matter all that much outside of my own head. Being emotionally connected with other people does. Got it.

 

Dear Jack: Your Instant New Hat Collection

14 years, 9 months.

Dear Jack,

This past Sunday, our family was invited to attend the big work party that Mommy was responsible for planning and directing.

When she explained there would be a “hat bar”, I just couldn’t comprehend what that even meant.

Once the party started, I suggested that our family be the first to try it out. I never would have imagined it would be so much fun to curate a collection of patches to be pressed on to a trucker hat. You immediately chose a Dale Earnhardt patch for your designated hat, as we assumed we would only get to make one hat per person.

But by the end of the party, since the cost of the hats and service were already paid for, you had some extra fun in creating some silly hats.

I would love to actually see you wear them in public…

Love,

Daddy

Dear Holly: Why There is a Roller Skate on Your New Hat

9 years, 3 months.

Dear Holly,

I’m sure I’ve pointed this out before, but I’m officially the person in our family who says “no”. It’s written into my DNA and therefore my role as the patriarch of our family.

Not only do I say “no” to questions like, “Can we get a pet dog?” and “Can we get a pool?”, but I also am the person who initiates what time we will go to an event and what time we will leave.

I’m the gatekeeper and the timekeeper. As I like to think, I keep things fun by creating and promoting the boundaries.

Accordingly, I make sure that you and your brother get to bed on time, and more importantly, get to sleep on time, each night.

It is of course your instinct to delay the bedtime process every single night: “I need a hair tie first… I need some water first… I need some lotion first… I need my stuffed animal first…”

I learned to proactively say, “Okay, Holly… it’s time to go take your shower. Before you do, I need you to go get your hair tie, your water, your lotion, your stuffed animal… your roller skates!”

Part of our nightly routine is for you to respond to my silly joke, “Daddy, I don’t need roller skates to go to bed!”

So when it came time for you to create your trucker hat this past weekend at the “hat bar” at Mommy’s work party, in addition to the shell I suggested to represent our last name, you obviously also chose to include a roller skate patch!

Love,

Daddy

Dear Jack: You Started High School This Week

14 years, 9 months.

Dear Jack,

This is the question that came to my mind this week:

“Am I really old enough to have a kid in high school?!”

I mean… I guess I am. I’m 44. The math checks out. I was 29 when you were born.

So now, here in the fall of 2025, you have now started high school!

Something I am specifically excited about is that on your schedule for your freshman year, you have “Personal Finance” your 1st semester, then “Career Preparedness” your 2nd semester.

I feel you will be attending a progressive high school that will lead you to a bright future.

After all, I would know: I graduated from the same high school in 1999!

Love,

Daddy

Dear Holly: You Started 4th Grade This Week

9 years, 3 months.

Dear Holly,

After a short summer of hanging out with your cousin Darla, the two of you now begin 4th grade together. But this time, you will be in separate classrooms, unlike last year when you were still a new student here.

But you are smart, confident, and friendly; so I know when you will easily make friends in your 4th grade class. Perhaps there will be new students who you help welcome to the school, now that you are settled in.

Though you won’t have your cousin right next to you the whole time this year, she’ll still be in the same hall; the classroom next to yours, actually.

I loved 4th grade! I think you will too.

Love,

Daddy