I'm terrified of your opinion

Hey friend,

I've lived a public life for over a decade. First, as a journalist and now as a content creator. But despite the visibility, I've been spared a lot of criticism. And while I'm grateful for that, I’ve recently realized I never built the muscle to handle it.

The downside? I'm thin-skinned. And I care (deeply!) about what other people think.

I care what my family thinks. What my friends think. What strangers on the internet think. 🫣

It shapes what I do and don’t share. Sometimes it seeps into what I allow myself to do: That project I wanted to start? That opinion I wanted to voice? That outfit I wanted to wear? All filtered through the lens of anticipated criticism.

And instead of working through that, I just keep most things close to the vest. I polish. I curate. I protect. I've become skilled at revealing just enough to seem open while keeping the most vulnerable parts hidden behind carefully constructed walls.

I watch people who seem immune to outside opinions and think: What must that feel like? That freedom? That certainty in your own voice?

My husband, Robert, is one of those people. He played sports and endured criticism in front of his peers. He knows how to take what's useful and discard the rest. I don’t jut admire that; I envy it. And I wish I could do the same. 

When someone offers him feedback, even when harsh, he can extract the valuable insights and let the rest roll off his back. He has a Teflon effect I wasn't born with. Where I might ruminate for days on a single comment, he processes it in minutes and moves forward unencumbered.

This concept reminds me of a quote I've always loved: "If you live by the compliments, you'll die by the criticism." 

And while the spirit of this saying resonates so much with me, I have to admit it's aspirational. I've tried to abide by it. But really, I've just curated what I share so tightly that I've stayed mainly on the safe side of both. I've managed to avoid the harshest criticism by only revealing what feels safe, polished, and unlikely to attract negative attention.

My life coach pointed something out to me recently that's been sitting heavy on my mind. She said the "me" she sees in conversation differs greatly from the "me" in my newsletters or videos. That the version I share is sanitized and my most interesting thoughts and struggles never make it to the page.

She's not wrong.

It made me think about my work in broadcast journalism and why I was drawn to it in the first place.

Everything is polished. Your makeup. Your voice. Your posture. Your script. It's about delivering facts, not feelings. You become the messenger, not the message. There's safety in that distance, in being the conduit rather than the content.

In journalism, we're taught to show our process; how we uncovered facts, verified information, and pursued leads. But that's about methodology, not emotional vulnerability. The focus stays on the story, never on the unresolved internal struggles of the storyteller. The journalist remains invisible, even when they're on camera every night. I found comfort in those boundaries and in the clear delineation between what belongs to the audience and what remains mine.

I've carried this same approach into my content. I have an unwritten rule: never share what I haven't resolved.

It's why I can write about balance after I've developed a framework for seasonal thinking. It’s why I can share about career transitions upon finding my footing. And it’s why I can talk about parenting challenges once I've discovered approaches that work for me. I've become an expert at retrospective vulnerability—sharing difficulties only once I've conquered them, when they've become safe stories rather than live wires.

But sharing the raw, unresolved questions? The struggles I'm still wading through? The doubts that visit me at 3 AM? That feels like walking into battle and announcing I have no armor. No shield. No poker face. Just exposing the soft spots I usually hide.

My coach tells me this is exactly what creates the deepest connections—this willingness to be seen in the messy middle, before the resolution and the neatly packaged lessons. That perhaps in trying to protect myself from criticism, I've also created a barrier to the most meaningful engagement.

I'm not sure she's wrong about that either.

I'm curious: Do you have similar boundaries around what you share? Do you prefer creators who offer solutions or those who share their process? Is there value in witnessing someone's journey through the messy middle, or do you, like me, prefer the clarity that comes with hindsight?

I don't have answers to these questions yet. But I wanted to at least share this reflection with you(even if it breaks my own rule a little bit). Perhaps this is my first small step into revealing something I haven't yet resolved.

More news you can use

• Give yourself permission to evolve

• I feel a headache coming on

• Spanish pitch vs English

I’m so glad you’re here! If you’re enjoying these emails, here’s how you can continue to support this newsletter:

• Add [email protected] to your contacts so you never miss a beat.

• Secrets don’t keep friends: share this message! Here’s a link to subscribe.

• Connect with me on TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. 

Until Next Time, 

The “This Just In” newsletter may have affiliate links included throughout the email, so if you buy through them, I get a small commission (at no extra cost to you!). I only recommend stuff I truly love, and if it's sponsored, I’ll disclose that it is a brand partnership. Thank you so much for your continued support.