Less time trying to be liked, and more time trying to be like yourself

The joy of getting older is, you become more secure in your preferences, desires and temperament.

Enough time and experience and discovery have accumulated, so now you can relax and prioritize your own happiness and fulfillment over conforming to external norms.

You spend less time trying to be liked, and more time trying to be like yourself.

Here’s an example.

When I was young, I was ashamed of my noncompetitive nature. My irrational assumption was, not being competitive demonstrated a lack of ambition, and people wouldn’t value my contributions because being number one wasn’t important to me.

Maybe you’ve heard the saying, nobody likes a sore loser? The only thing we dislike more than that is, someone who doesn’t care about winning. Especially in our capitalistic, big swinging dick country of ours. People here are winners dear, and if you are not, shame on you.

But that’s just the angsty teenage version of myself talking. As I get older, I’m learning to accept that noncompetitive individuals aren’t bad, they’re merely different.

I can still be an ambitious and disciplined and motivated person, even if my focus is on internal goals like personal growth, individual satisfaction and creative expression. As my mentor once told me, just because you don’t value outperforming others and winning, it doesn’t mean you don’t love playing the game.

You can still have certain traits commonly associated with competitiveness, even if they don’t align with the typical traits of a competitive person. If you feel the same way I do, then you’ll appreciate the following distinctions and nuances.

• I am ambitious and driven by a desire to excel. Even if I don’t focus on comparing myself to, or outperforming others.
• I am driven and have a strong work ethic. Even if external rewards and recognition don’t fuel my motivation.
• I am willing to ignore sunk costs and quit at a moment’s notice. Even if that disappoints those around me.
• I am passionate about playing the game. Even if I don’t thrive on the thrill of victory.
• I value growth and improvement. Even if I’m perfectly content with mediocrity and don’t strive to be the best.
• I am a team player who will be accountable to others. Even if I prefer working alone and believe that teamwork is largely overrated.
• I enjoy putting on the jersey of, and rooting for my hometown club. Even if I believe rivalries are stupid and childish and I don’t care which tribe people belong to.

In short, I’m athletic, but not an athlete. Huge distinction.

Because I have friends and family who are athletes. These guys are incredible. They participate in these formal competitions in structured environments and win awards and make insane demands on themselves. And that really is wonderful. It’s s source of deep fulfillment and joy for them.

Whereas someone like me, not an athlete but still athletic, emphasizes fitness and coordination and a broader appreciation for physical movement and a healthy lifestyle. This approach is meaningful to me, even if it’s less focused on the scoreboard.

And I’m not any better or worse than anyone else because I don’t time my runs and keep my stats on my yoga. It’s just that, checking my unique boxes of fulfillment and joy is my thing. Doing things at my own pace is my thing.

Anyway, enough ranting about how little winning matters to me. Sometimes that can become its own twisted version of competition. Where I try to become the best at not competing.

The bigger point is about being secure in one’s own preferences, desires and temperament. Now there’s a game worth playing.

What is one preference were you embarrassed to have when you were young, but that you now embrace? Have you learned prioritize your own happiness and fulfillment over conforming to external norms?

This is no easy task. All human beings have tendency to present themselves in a socially desirable manner. It’s an adaptive trait that’s evolutionarily advantageous. In a world where conformity reigns supreme, dancing to the beat of your own shamelessly uncool drum can bring severe consequences.

The trick is expanding the view of your preferences. Zooming out on who you are, so that you can see your temperament as an asset that sets you apart, not a tragic flaw.

Society perceives it as our weakness, but it’s actually a catalyst for growth.

Sheeran is the prime example. Ed doesn’t fit the conventional standards of attractiveness, and he doesn’t possess an overtly flashy persona. And unlike other popstars, the guy is objectively boring, unoffensive and unassuming.

But those traits typically don’ scale. Few if any artists get inducted into the rock and roll hall of fame for being nice and ordinary. I was watching a documentary about his songwriting process, and the entire film was so doggedly unprobing, that I couldn’t help but respect him even more.

Here’s a guy who doesn’t just make records, he breaks them. From the most successful stadium tours, to the fastest selling record, to the most plays on a streaming platform, to the most viewers for a live performance, few artist will ever surpass his numbers.

Sheeran may look like a ferret and a goose had a baby that got eaten and partially digested by a fox before puked out again, but he’s still one of the top ten highest grossing live music artists of the decade. That story should give all us hope. Even if we’re not musicians., there’s no reason any of us can’t take our most socially undesirable traits and reframe them as assets. It’s simply a matter of imagination. Wracking our brains to find the most positive applications of negative traits.

The value is there if we look hard and long enough.

Think of it mathematically.

One of the first lessons we learn is, when you multiply two negative numbers together, the result is a positive number. Take negative two times negative three. We are essentially combining two groups of negative three. Each negative sign indicates an opposite direction or value, so when we combine two groups of opposite values, they cancel each other out and result in a positive value.

In this case, negative two multiplied by negative gives us positive six. This principle highlights the concept that combining or leveraging perceived negatives can lead to a positive outcome.

Let’s execute that math problem using two of my own weaknesses.

Lack of detail orientation and inability to keep things short.

Now, both are considered to be negative traits, but let’s see if their multiplication can lead to a positive outcome.

Starting with not being a details guy. This phrase will ironically be engraved on my tombstone when I die, after my wife murders me for not knowing where the keys are. But the upside to this inability is, I don’t get wrapped up in minute details, and that allows for a quicker decision making processes. I am the kind of person to take a broad perspective and stay focused on the overall objective.

That’s variable one in the equation.

The second number is also a negative, which is my inability to keep things short. Brevity is not my strong suit. My coworkers almost certainly get exasperated reading my work, because the volume is ungodly high. But here’s the benefit of this weakness. My inclination towards writing more rather than less results in comprehensive explanations and thorough understanding of the subject matter. I am the kind of person whose expands on ideas and thoughts most people would ignore. T

hat is variable two.

And multiplying both of those perceived weaknesses together can lead to positive qualities such as big picture thinking, thoroughness, depth, and rich communication. All of which are valuable enough for my wife and coworkers to justify not throwing me into the wood chipper.

Isn’t math fun?

Next time you’re feeling insecure about your weaknesses, explore the potential positive aspects that can emerge from their combination.

Do a little reverse talent stacking, and you’ll become secure in your preferences, desires and temperament.

Are you spending your time trying to be liked, or trying to be like yourself?