Don’t let other people answer that question for you.

I was a really curious and enthusiastic little kid. One of the very few TV shows I was allowed to watch was Star Trek. I looooooooved Star Trek and decided at age 4 that William Shatner was my boyfriend. (Side note: when I got a chance to meet him at age 50, I told him that, and he was wonderfully and perfectly sketchy and flirtatious about it.)

I also have the moon landing as one of my earliest memories, so it is no surprise that I ended up wanting to be an astronaut. Because of Star Trek and the women I saw there, it never crossed my mind that girls couldn’t do that, so that was my dream. I would become a pilot then get a job at NASA being an astronaut, and go into space and maybe the moon. It was a want and certainty as deep and vibrant as Van Gogh’s Starry Night. I had that absolute confidence that comes with being pre-pubescent and not having much experience with the crappiness of the world yet. Or frankly, the crappiness of people who should love you the most.

I was about 11 years old, in the car with my mom, and she asked, “So what do you want to be when you grow up?” It seemed like such a normal question at the time, but looking back I wonder how she didn’t already know. I made no secret of it. I wonder now if she didn’t ask just so she could say the NEXT thing: “An astronaut? You’re not good enough at math to do that!” It was so dismissive, so unfeeling, it felt like she had slapped me. At the time, I was in advanced classes for both language and math, and was at least a year ahead of most of my peers in both. I didn’t have a great algebra teacher, and was struggling a little with concepts, but I was still AHEAD of where I should have been. But I was 11 years old, and this was my mom, so “I’m not good at math” became a part of my story about myself, and I gave up on the idea of being an astronaut. I still wanted to, but that want had become a faded watercolor, a wish for the impossible.

Fast forward 5 years: I’m a junior in high school, starting to think about what was next, and considering the Air Force academy. I still wanted to be a pilot, you see, and maybe maybe that would teach me something I could do at NASA, even if I couldn’t be an astronaut because “I’m not good at math”. My swim coach who I’d been with for all those years asked me what I was thinking about, and I told him…and his response was to laugh and say, “The Air Force Academy? You’ll never make it! You don’t like being told what to do!” Again, I felt slapped. Another trusted adult, another evaluation of WHO I AM that was different than what I thought I was. But I was 16, and this was my coach, so “I don’t like being told what to do” became part of my story about myself, and I gave up on the idea of being a pilot.

Both of those interactions were pivotal moments in my life, and represent one of the few things I have regrets about: allowing other people’s opinions of who I am become who I accepted myself to be. I let other people define me for a LONG time, not trusting what I knew about myself but swallowing their off-hand remarks or criticisms as truth. I was in my 40’s before it struck me what I had done, and it was while I was juggling 4 jobs to keep things together after my divorce, that I said, “Wait a damn minute! I’m not LAZY like my family told me! What else were they wrong about?!”

The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I got. The very people who should have been supportive and encouraging were the source of my greatest angst and insecurity. What I finally realized is that everyone is going to have some kind of opinion about me, about who I am, based on their own baggage, perceptions, and insecurities, and that it is up to me to accept or reject it. Some people (like my coach) will do it thoughtlessly, like a joke, not understanding that it can take root in someone’s heart because they trust you. Some people (like my parents) think that saying negative things to you will motivate you to do better in order to prove them wrong. Some people (like my mom in particular) do it to manipulate your behavior into something that makes them feel more comfortable. Some people do it to bring you down, or because you don’t fit in a box they understand, or because they can only feel big if they make someone else feel small.

At the end of the day, you don’t have to understand their motivation. All you need to do is quickly weigh it against your own heart, “Does that feel right? Does that fit who I know myself to be?”, and if not, yeet that judgment into the universe and move on.

The other thing I learned and really want you to hear is to be suspicious of someone telling you who someone else is, especially if what they’re saying upsets you. (for example: “Democrats just want open borders” or “that kid is just saying he’s trans to win at sports”, etc) In this situation, their motivation DOES matter. Ask yourself why is this person telling me this? Do they have an axe to grind? Are they seeking attention/clicks? What do they get out of upsetting me? Do I have direct personal experience that supports or refutes this? Do they say nice things about other people or groups, or are they consistently negative? Why should I believe it? Why do I WANT to believe it?

Most of the time, people are absolutely full of shit about other people’s characters and motivation; we all judge each other through our own lens—”if I acted like that, it would be because I intended _____, or because I felt like ________, or because I wanted ______”. None of that tells you what is in someone else’s heart.

The bottom line is that I can’t control what other people think of me or others, but I absolutely can gatekeep what I choose to internalize. I don’t have to let their garbage attitudes direct the course of my life or my dreams and aspirations. I don’t have to fall for the clickbait. I don’t have to trust someone else’s analysis of a third party. And I absolutely do NOT have to allow other people to define who I am or what I “should” be.

I realized recently that my mom probably killed my astronaut dream out of fear that I actually could end up doing something so dangerous. Her choice to hurt me probably came from wanting to make herself feel better. It tracks with all the rest of her parenting. It was not in my personality, especially at that age, to push back with the single-minded “I’ll show you!”. My response for decades was to feel bad about myself and nurse hurt feelings. I don’t recommend this approach.