I stopped caring what people thought of me, and the strangest part wasn’t the freedom—it was realizing how much energy I’d been wasting my entire life

by Lachlan Brown | May 13, 2026, 10:57 am

Last month, I ran into an old colleague at a coffee shop who spent twenty minutes telling me how “concerned” they were about my career choices. Five years ago, that conversation would have ruined my entire week. This time? I genuinely forgot about it until I started writing this.

The shift didn’t happen overnight. For most of my life, I was a professional people-pleaser, constantly adjusting my personality like a human chameleon depending on who was in the room. Every decision, from what I wore to what I posted online, went through the exhausting filter of “what will they think?”

Then something broke. Maybe it was the accumulation of years spent bending myself out of shape, maybe it was reading too much Buddhist philosophy, or maybe I just got tired. But I stopped. Cold turkey. And what happened next completely blindsided me.

The energy drain I never noticed

You know that feeling when you finally turn off a loud air conditioner you didn’t realize was running? That sudden, almost shocking quiet? That’s what it felt like when I stopped caring about others’ opinions.

I’d been spending hours crafting the perfect responses to texts, rehearsing conversations before they happened, and lying awake replaying interactions to figure out if I’d said something “wrong.” The mental gymnastics were Olympic-level.

Think about your own day. How many times do you catch yourself editing your thoughts before speaking? Or choosing the “safe” option because it won’t raise eyebrows? Each of these micro-decisions drains your mental battery, and you probably don’t even realize it’s happening.

The Buddhist concept of “right effort” teaches us to direct our energy wisely. I’d been pouring mine into an impossible task: controlling how seven billion people might perceive me. No wonder I was exhausted by 3 PM every day.

The invisible scripts running my life

Here’s something wild: most of the opinions I was worried about weren’t even real. They were projections, assumptions, imaginary conversations with people who probably hadn’t thought about me in years.

I discovered I’d been following invisible scripts written by… who exactly? My high school English teacher? That random person who made a snarky comment on social media three years ago? These phantom judges had been living rent-free in my head, influencing everything from my career moves to what I ordered at restaurants.

When I started making decisions based on what I actually wanted rather than what I thought would impress others, something interesting happened. The world didn’t end. In fact, most people didn’t even notice.

The surprising side effects of not caring

The freedom part was expected. What I didn’t see coming were the other changes.

First, my relationships got better. Sounds counterintuitive, right? But when you stop performing for people, you attract those who actually like the real you. The friendships that survived my transformation became deeper and more authentic. The ones that didn’t? They were probably held together by mutual performance anyway.

Second, decision-making became almost laughably easy. Should I take this job? Do I want to go to this event? Without the noise of imagined judgments, the answers were usually obvious. My gut had been trying to tell me all along; I just couldn’t hear it over the committee in my head.

Third, and this still surprises me, I became more successful. When you stop splitting your focus between doing the work and managing perceptions, you can channel all that energy into actually getting things done. My writing improved because I stopped trying to sound smart and started trying to be helpful.

The fear that keeps us stuck

Why don’t more people just stop caring? Because we’re terrified of social rejection. It’s hardwired into our DNA from when being cast out from the tribe meant certain death.

But here’s what I learned: the people who will reject you for being yourself were never your people anyway. You’re just speeding up an inevitable sorting process.

I remember posting something vulnerable about my struggles with anxiety in my twenties. My finger hovered over the “publish” button for a full five minutes. The post ended up resonating with thousands of people who felt the same way. The vulnerability I was so scared to show became the very thing that connected me with others.

The Stoics had a practice called “premeditatio malorum” where they’d imagine the worst-case scenario. Try it. What’s the absolute worst that could happen if people don’t approve of your choices? Really think about it. Now ask yourself: is avoiding that possibility worth spending your entire life as a watered-down version of yourself?

The practical path to not giving a damn

Look, you can’t just flip a switch and stop caring overnight. Trust me, I tried. It’s more like slowly turning down a dimmer switch.

Start small. Pick one area where you’ll practice being unapologetically yourself. Maybe it’s your clothing choices or your music taste. Notice the discomfort when you don’t get validation, but sit with it instead of immediately seeking approval.

Practice saying “I don’t know” when you don’t know something, instead of pretending you do. Say no to invitations you don’t want to accept without elaborate excuses. Post that photo you like even if it’s not your “best angle.”

Each small act of authenticity weakens the grip of others’ opinions. You’re essentially building your tolerance for disapproval, like building a muscle at the gym.

What actually matters

When you strip away the need for external validation, you’re left with a question: what do I actually value?

For me, it came down to growth, genuine connection, and contributing something useful to the world. These became my north star, replacing the vague goal of “being liked by everyone.”

Once you get clear on your own values, the opinions of others become like background noise. Sure, you might still hear them, but they don’t dictate your choices anymore.

Final words

The energy I used to spend managing others’ perceptions now goes into things that actually matter: deep work, meaningful relationships, and personal growth. It’s like I discovered I’d been driving with the parking brake on for years.

Will everyone understand your choices when you stop caring what they think? No. Will some people judge you? Absolutely. But here’s the thing: they were probably judging you anyway. At least now you’re being judged for who you actually are.

The strangest part of this whole journey wasn’t the freedom or even the energy I reclaimed. It was realizing that most people are too busy worrying about what you think of them to spend much time judging you. We’re all walking around in our own bubbles of self-consciousness, desperately seeking approval from people who are desperately seeking ours.

Break the cycle. The life you’re avoiding in order to be liked is the one worth living.

Lachlan Brown

Lachlan Brown is an entrepreneur and co-founder of Brown Brothers Media, a digital publishing network reaching tens of millions of readers monthly. He holds a Graduate Diploma of Psychological Studies from Deakin University, though his real education came afterward: a warehouse job shifting TVs, a stretch of anxiety in his mid-twenties, and the slow discovery that studying the mind is not the same as learning how to live well. He started experimenting with Buddhist principles during breaks at the warehouse and eventually began writing about what he was learning. That writing became Hack Spirit, a widely read personal development site, and his book Hidden Secrets of Buddhism became a bestseller. His work breaks down complex ideas into frameworks people can apply immediately, whether they are navigating a career change, a difficult relationship, or the gap between knowing what to do and actually doing it. Lachlan splits his time between Singapore and Saigon. He writes about high-performance routines, decision-making under pressure, digital innovation, and the intersection of Eastern philosophy with modern life. His perspective comes from having built things from scratch, failed at some of them, and learned that clarity comes from practice, not theory.