Head-On

May 1st, 2026

It’s my birthday (again) and I’m one of those people who don’t hate it; I know too well that not everyone gets to grow old like they should and I adore every minute I’m here (even those minutes I don’t adore).

On this day I usually reflect on my most recent journey around the sun, and this year I learned something I apparently have to relearn every few years. This time the message was delivered courtesy of Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch.

No, I did not receive tragic medical news; instead, I am one of the millions obsessed with a television show called The Pitt, about an emergency room in Pittsburgh and their talented, traumatized staff. Dr. Robby leads this team, and he does so in a way that both inspires and guilts me.

See, Dr. Robby sees people. He talks to them, he listens to them, he tries to help him and — this is the hard part I have to keep relearning — he doesn’t avoid them. He keeps coming back: to the difficult patients, to the necessary conflict, to the seemingly impossible challenges.

He approaches life head-on.

I don’t know what people think of me, not really. I think some of them think I’m a confident person who does things. I don’t know if they think I’m avoidant. I know I don’t want to be. But I am, by nature, and it’s something I have to resist. Fictional characters throughout my life have always reminded me to be brave and to embrace people and problems; heroes like Spider-Man and Luke Skywalker when I was kid, and now Dr. Robby as an adult.

Friction is the only way we get better; I know this until I don’t and then I see it and feel it and know it again.

Which has been another hard lesson of the past few years: slowly gaining the ability to really be criticized. Because not only am I avoidant, but I will be a people-pleaser until I die, probably from not enough applause. I know I am not universally beloved yet I’m cursed with the perpetual need to be liked. Being told by someone that I did something wrong or that they didn’t like how I did something is a form of torture for me. The exposure therapy of my education has been, honestly, a release.

I do care what people think, but what they think doesn’t define me, and sometimes what they think can help me. Learning how to tell good criticism from the bad is an invaluable tool. I don’t believe people who loudly shout “I don’t care what people think of me!” because they wouldn’t shout it if they really didn’t care, and if you’re a human being with feelings on this planet, then you do care, I know it, at least a little bit. And that’s okay. That’s amazing.

It’s like 3 am and I don’t know what I’m doing here. Here, as in on my phone and writing a birthday message; and here, as in life, in existence. But I’m happy to know you and happy to share my thoughts and feelings with you and I’m, sincerely, just happy to be alive and be here. I’m glad you’re here too. Here’s to 29 (shut up).