Some people have an inept way of making other people feel like crap. You ever notice that? You can be having an absolutely awesome day and then—out of nowhere—some jerk flips you off when you switch lanes. Or a woman in line gives you a look so dirty you start mentally auditing your entire existence.
Why is she looking at me like that. Do I look fat in these pants. Is my hair doing something weird in the back. Do I have a rogue booger making a public appearance.
It’s amazing how one glance from a stranger can send a perfectly good mood straight into the trash. And when you think about it, it’s ridiculous—because most of the time I do not look fat in my pants, my hair behaves quite well, and I check my nose in the rear‑view mirror before entering any store. I am, in fact, booger‑free.
But uncertainty doesn’t just come from strangers. It comes from the people we know—friends, family, coworkers, partners. The people whose words land harder because they’re supposed to know us. And sometimes what they say feels like a dagger straight through the heart.
So, here’s the question: Is the pain intentional? Or is it our mind doing that thing it loves to do—taking a tiny moment and spinning it into a full‑blown narrative?
Yoda said it best: “When you look at the dark side, careful you must be. For the dark side looks back.”
Our minds are tricksters. They fill in gaps with worst‑case scenarios, especially when we’re already standing on shaky ground. That’s the real root of uncertainty—not the stranger’s glare or the offhand comment, but the stories we tell ourselves about what those things mean.
So, how do I deal with uncertainty? I try to interrupt the story.
I smile at the young man bagging my groceries. I smile at the girl making my double espresso. I even smile at the lady giving me the dirty look—because maybe it isn’t me she’s disgusted with. Maybe it’s her own life, her own morning, her own private storm. My mind wants to wander down the path of self‑doubt, but I don’t have to follow it.
As for the people who “know me best,” when their words drop me, I’ve learned to shrug most of it off. Not because I’m invincible or overflowing with confidence, but because I’ve mastered the art of glossing over things—good or bad. And honestly, what I’ve come to understand is this: the people who think they know me best often don’t. If they did, they’d know what triggers a fall just as much as they’d know what encourages me to rise.
So, I deal with uncertainty by choosing what to carry. By deciding which words get to stay and which ones get to leave. By remembering that most people are fighting battles I can’t see. And by reminding myself that the only voices that truly matter are the ones that know me—not the ones that assume they do.
And if these pants do make me look fat, please tell me. Chances are I won’t believe you anyway (wink, wink).
Cover image of me dressed in umpteen layers so I can take the beast on a walk in the snow.
If this spoke to you, be sure to “like” and share it over social with someone who’d appreciate the flavor …
DISCLAIMER: These are my personal experiences and opinions. Nothing here is medical, nutritional, or therapeutic advice. Also, I’m a writer and an editor. And I try my best to make sure every post is articulate and free from errors. However, being that I edit my own work—and it’s next to impossible to properly edit your own work—I admit, occasionally there may be an error or two I miss. But doing so doesn’t make me an idiot so don’t be mean. Just smile, pat yourself on the back for finding an error and be glad you’re not the only one who makes mistakes sometimes … xoxox
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