“Some people think they're always right
Others are quiet and uptight
Others, they seem so very nice-nice-nice-nice, oh
Inside they might feel sad and wrong, oh, no”
-The Strokes, “You Only Live Once”
Too often I find myself wanting to speak, but unable to find the words. I want to tell the asshole who just bumped into me to go fuck himself. I want to tell the girl at the gym she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I want to scream to the world at the top of my lungs, “Look at me!”
Time after time, I say nothing.
I was always taught to be kind - be polite, don’t get in the way, play small. I don’t think my parents taught me this; I chalk it up to a combination of Catholic guilt and extreme social anxiety. Regardless, I’ve wrestled with it my whole life, and in many ways I feel powerless over it. I hate it. You know the saying - “Nice Guys Finish Last.”
That’s not always true, but in my experience, it’s true most of the time. The thing is, it has nothing to with being “nice”. What does that word mean, anyway? Most people I meet aren’t egregious assholes, so the term “nice” really doesn’t mean much to me. I think it’s more beneficial to think of it in terms of space. “Nice Guy” here translates to “Someone Who Doesn’t Own His Space”. Let me elaborate…
One of the keys to a happy and healthy life is what I like to call “Owning Your Space”. By this, I don’t mean owning a home or owning land (although those certainly fall under its umbrella). I mean that no matter where you go, you feel like you belong. No matter what room you’re in, you feel like you deserve to be there just as much as anyone else. No matter who you talk to, you feel like it’s an honor for them to be in conversation with you (okay, maybe not that ridiculous, but you get my point). You are comfortable everywhere you go - you are free.
I don’t know about you, but that has rarely been the case for me. Most of the time when I walk down the street, I play those awkward eye contact games with passersby. When I walk into a room, I feel like people are staring at me (and my giant head). When I talk to someone, I mumble and try too hard to say the right things. For most of my life I haven’t owned my space - I’ve simply rented it. I’ll have days and moments where I feel like I’m a king on top of the world, but the rest of the time I’ll play the court jester. It wasn’t until recently that I became acutely aware of this.
In The Strokes’ “You Only Live Once,” the line “Others they seem so very nice, inside they might feel sad and wrong” has always resonated with me. How did Julian Casablancas know my secret? The biggest impediment in owning my space is my negative self-view - “I don’t belong.” My question is, where does that come from? Why is that my default? I could chalk it up to childhood t-r-a-u-m-a, but you know me - I’m sick of that. Instead, let’s take a different approach.
I think it all comes from a place of love and good intention. Let’s flip “I don’t belong” to “we all belong.” I’ve always had a deep streak of kindness in my heart, and it’s easy for me to confuse that with shyness or weakness. I don’t think I’m better than anyone else (except at doing crazy old school lifts - I’m definitely better than everyone at that). I see my peers as brothers and sisters, not as objects I need to dominate. I try to embrace the teaching of Christ and Lao Tzu every day of my life, and that comes with a certain amount of meekness and humility. That doesn’t mean I’m “sad and wrong”. Yeah I can be awkward, but I also try to see the best in each and every person I come across.
Reframing this has changed so much for me. Just because I feel uncomfortable doesn’t mean I’m deformed. I can still own my space if I lead with kindness and love. If I have one of those court jester days, so what? Every experience is just another lesson on a never-ending journey to increasing ownership. It’s like anything else - I have to continually work at it and fail a million times in order to get better, and you know what? It’s working. I can tell because of the way I’ve started to show up. Those awkward eye contact games have become staring contests (that I usually win). I can walk into a room with ease, not because I think I’m the best, but because I understand that we all equally belong. I can talk to anyone, and if I get flustered, that’s fine. There’s an endless amount of fish in the sea - I’ll get it right soon enough.
You only live once. Always remember that you belong, and you deserve to be wherever you are at any given time. Remind yourself of this constantly, and watch reality shift before your very eyes.