Whose Life Are You Taking Advice From?

The older I get, the less interested I am in being universally liked.

There was a time when I wanted everyone's approval. I wanted to be understood, appreciated, and seen in the "right" way. I spent an exhausting amount of energy worrying about whether people misunderstood my intentions, disagreed with my choices, or thought I was too much. Too loud. Too emotional. Too sensual. Too ambitious. Too visible.

Eventually, I realized something freeing: no matter what you do, someone will have an opinion about it.

If you're quiet, they'll tell you to speak up. If you're outspoken, they'll say you're attention-seeking. If you take a risk, they'll call you reckless. If you play it safe, they'll wonder why you never chased your dreams. You cannot win a game where the rules change depending on who's watching.

The people I admire most helped me understand this. They aren't the people with perfectly curated lives or carefully crafted personas. They aren't constantly editing themselves to avoid criticism. They're the people who are actually living.

They're starting businesses without knowing exactly how they'll succeed. They're creating art before it's perfect. They're falling in love after heartbreak. They're changing careers, moving cities, speaking their truth, and allowing themselves to be seen. They are not performing life from a safe distance. They're participating in it.

And that's why I've noticed something interesting about criticism. The loudest critics are rarely the people creating something beautiful with their lives. Rarely the people taking risks. Rarely the people following their hearts. More often, they're spectators offering commentary from the sidelines while others are brave enough to step onto the field.

Years ago, I heard the quote, "Don't take criticism from someone you wouldn't take advice from." It sounded clever at the time, but it didn't fully sink in until I got older.

Now, when I look back, I can honestly say that the people who have been the most critical of the way I live my life have never had lives I wanted for myself.

Not because my life is perfect.

It isn't.

I've made mistakes. I've trusted the wrong people. I've started over more than once. I've had my heart broken. I've gotten things wrong in ways that still make me cringe when I think about them. But it's my life. A life I've actually lived.

I've watched sunsets instead of rushing past them. I've jumped into oceans. I've taken chances that scared me. I've loved deeply, lost deeply, and learned lessons I couldn't have learned any other way. Every scar, every detour, every beautiful mistake belongs to me.

The people whose lives genuinely inspire me aren't spending their days criticizing strangers. They aren't dissecting how other people express themselves. They aren't busy policing someone else's joy. They're too occupied building lives that feel meaningful to them.

Maybe that's the real secret. The more connected you become to your own life, the less interested you become in controlling someone else's.

These days, when criticism comes my way, I ask myself one simple question: Would I trade lives with this person?

Would I want their relationship with themselves? Their courage? Their freedom? Their sense of joy? Their way of moving through the world?

If the answer is no, I let their opinion pass through me like weather.

Life is far too short to spend it seeking approval from people who aren't living in a way that inspires you. The goal was never to be universally liked. The goal is to be fully alive. To tell the truth about who you are. To love what you love. To take up space without apology.

And perhaps most importantly, to become so rooted in your own life that other people's opinions no longer have the power to pull you away from it.