Just yesterday, I realized how much I used to care—far too much—about what people thought of me, whether positive or negative. When it was negative, the hurt and anger were overwhelming. Poor me—I feel deep empathy for my past self—for carrying that weight so heavily.

Today, strangely, I don’t care.

I feel strong enough now, within myself, to stand firm—no longer swayed by the cold, disapproving winds of others’ judgments.

Here’s a poem, just for me 😊:

Once, Anita bent with the wind, its cold disapproval, sharp and thin.
She carried the weight of every glance, every whisper, every stance.

The hurt was deep, the anger burned, for every judgment, her soul turned.
Poor Anita, for caring too much, for craving warmth in an icy touch.

But yesterday, the tides have changed, her heart unshackled, rearranged.
No longer swayed, no longer thrown, Anita stands steady—strong alone.

The winds may howl, the voices call, but they no longer shake her at all.
She stands tall, unshaken, free— Anita, unbound, just Anita—me.

End of poem.

Indeed, I once craved warmth in fleeting, icy touches—here, there—because ice was what I had known most.

Now, it matters deeply to me to extend warmth—to others and, just as importantly, to myself.

As for those who disapprove of me, so be it. I simply don’t have to engage with those offering me that icy touch. I choose where my energy goes.

anita