The Strange Freedom in Losing Everything

And the art of being unbothered.

My best friend and I spent a week in Nashville wearing ridiculous wigs everywhere we went. Shops, restaurants, art fairs, museums. Children flocked to us and there was a never ending stream of smiles and waves. Strangers stopped us constantly, not to mock us, but to say some version of the same thing—I wish I was brave enough to do that.

What keep thinking about since we left is how many people move through the world afraid of being seen. Afraid of looking foolish. Afraid of attracting attention unless they can control exactly what kind.

Neither my best friend nor I feel that fear in the same way anymore, and I think it’s because life already took from us the things people spend their lives trying to protect. We lost our reputations. We lost entire versions of ourselves. We survived being misunderstood, lied about, abandoned, looked at differently. Once you live through that, a pink wig in public stops feeling dangerous.

There’s a strange freedom in having already lost your place in the world once. You stop performing dignity so carefully. You stop negotiating with other people’s judgment. You realize embarrassment cannot actually kill you.

Maybe that’s why being unbothered is so magnetic. It gives other people permission to be a little less bothered too.