You will not be for everyone
I don't know who needs to hear this today
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“You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there’s still going to be somebody who hates peaches.”
Dita Von Teese
I don’t know who needs to hear this today, but you will not be for everyone.
And the sooner you can make peace with that, the freer and more grounded you’ll feel.
For most of my life, I didn’t really believe that though. At school, I felt all kinds of pressure to be liked. I wasn’t necessarily trying to be the most popular, but I definitely didn’t want to be the one left out.
So I did what many of us learn to do—I adapted. I’d change my music taste depending on who I was with. Switch up my fashion sense to mirror the people around me. Even shift my opinions and laugh at things I didn’t actually find funny if it meant not upsetting the apple cart.
I always felt like a bit of an outsider, and I desperately wanted to blend in—which I suppose, on a deeper level, was really just about feeling accepted.
It worked, in a way. But it came at a cost.
Because over time, you start losing track of who you really are underneath it all. When your identity is built on what you think other people want, the foundations get shaky. You end up looking outside yourself for every decision—is this good enough? Will they approve? Am I too much? Too little?
The irony is, trying to please everyone often makes us come across as less real—and people can sense it.
We’re drawn to those who are unapologetically themselves. Not in a performative or edgy way, but in that grounded, consistent kind of way that says: this is who I am. It’s okay if you disagree. It’s okay if you’re not into it.
That kind of grounded confidence is magnetic—and rare.
But it takes unlearning, because we’re hardwired for approval.
As infants, it was essential. We relied on the love and care of our parents to survive, so we learned early on how to gain their attention, smiles, and acceptance. Approval literally meant survival.
And long before that, being accepted by the group—your tribe—was the difference between safety and danger. Rejection wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was life-threatening. That fear is ancient, and for many of us, it still runs deep.
But what kept us safe as children can keep us stuck as adults. If you spend your life trying to be liked by everyone, you’ll end up endlessly shape-shifting—saying yes when you mean no, biting your tongue when you want to speak, and doubting yourself at every turn.
It’s a game you can’t win—and one that only makes you miserable the longer you play.
Sure, rejection used to threaten our survival—but it doesn’t anymore. You’re not going to be cast out of the village for being yourself (at least, I hope not!). These days, rejection is something we’d actually do better to lean into.
And yet, even now, I still feel the occasional pull to water things down—especially when I share something personal or a little opinionated. That old part of me still whispers, What if someone doesn’t like this? What if they leave?
And the truth is… sometimes they do.
Not everyone vibes with my content. I get unsubscribes all the time. But I’ve learned not to take that as a sign something’s wrong. If anything, it’s a sign that I’m standing for something. That I’m not trying to blend in or appeal to everyone at once. And I’ve come to appreciate that as a natural part of the process.
It’s not a reflection of me or my worth—it just means it wasn’t the right fit for them. And that’s okay.
Of course, a big part of blogging is connection—you want your writing to resonate. But I’ve found that the more honest I am, the more naturally the right people show up. Not because I’m trying to impress, but because I’m just being myself.
There’s something really powerful about that shift—from chasing approval to choosing authenticity. From trying to be liked by everyone to being real with a select group of people.
And it doesn’t mean you stop caring. It just means you stop compromising who you are to be more palatable.
When you stop trying to appeal to everyone, your message becomes clearer. Your values become stronger. Your relationships become deeper. Because they’re built on something real—not on a performance, but on truth.
Like Marmite, the more you aren’t for some people, the more you’ll really be for others. That’s where the real connection lies.
And at some point, things start to shift.
Instead of walking into a conversation wondering, Do they like me?, you begin to flip the narrative in your head:
Do *I* like *them*? What do *I* think of *you* as a person?
When you trust yourself and genuinely like who you are, you stop handing over your power so readily. You stop letting every interaction become a silent audition for approval, because you’ve already done the work of approving of yourself.
You don’t need to be everyone’s favourite. You don’t need to win everyone over. You just need to keep showing up as the most honest version of yourself. Let people decide what they want to do with that.
Some won’t like it… Let them go.
So long as you’ve done nothing wrong and have simply expressed who you are—celebrate it! That’s a sign you’re living in alignment, not performing the part of who you think someone else wants you to be.
In fact, in a world where so many people are trying to appeal to the masses or selling out just to fit in, we need more people with the courage to speak honestly, stand firm in what they believe, and stay true to who they are.
You will not be for everyone—and that’s not only allowed, it’s necessary.