I'd Never Do That

That was the question I caught myself asking recently.

Not because I thought it was weird. I hadn't—until other people started reacting to it.

“That's amazing. But why?” or "I'd never do that.”

I've heard some version of those comments several times since I started telling people that I'm going to France alone for a month. Which is funny, because it didn't feel particularly strange to me.

I've wanted to become fluent in French for as long as I can remember.

I finally have the time and opportunity to give it a real chance, so this fall I'm going to Montpellier. I'll live with a French family, go to school every day, and spend a month immersed in the language.

I'm ridiculously excited about it.

The decision made perfect sense to me until I started hearing it through other people's ears.

Not enough to make me reconsider going, but enough to make me wonder why their reactions registered at all.

One friend put it this way: "I love following you on social media; you're very inspiring—but I could never do that. And I wouldn't want to."

It didn't sting, exactly. But for a second, I felt myself wanting to convince her. To explain why it was a good idea, as if she'd asked me to.

Then I caught myself and let it go.

She wasn't talking about me. She was talking about herself.

The people who know me best didn't really question it. Their responses sounded more like "I love this for you" and "This is so you."

One of my besties put it this way: "Doesn't matter what anyone thinks—so long as Todd is supportive. We've only got a short time left in this world. You do with your life what you want."

I love her.

She and her husband are spending a year traveling the world. They've already been to Kenya and Tanzania, so she definitely gets me. But her comment stuck with me for another reason.

We became friends in 1983, when I went to Australia as an exchange student.

I was only 16 when I left to live there for a year.

Talking with her reminded me of something I'd almost forgotten: Australia wasn't even my first choice.

France was, but I didn't qualify because I hadn't taken the required two years of French.

Instead, I had to pick an English-speaking country, and in 1983, "Down Under" by Men at Work was everywhere.

So, naturally, I picked Australia.

This fall, I finally get the full immersion—not a visit, but a month of actually living there.

I can hardly believe I'll turn 60 while I'm there.

So why did that first comment make me want to explain myself, even for a second?

I don't think it was because I needed approval.

But there's a difference between not needing someone's approval and not caring what they think.

We love to say we don't care what other people think. I've certainly said it. But I'm not sure that's completely true—or even that it should be.

We're human. We want to be liked, we want to belong, and sometimes we want the people around us not only to support our choices, but to understand them.

Those aren't the same thing.

You can support something you'd never choose for yourself. And you can love someone and still go in a completely different direction than they would.

Which brings me back to those reactions.

Maybe other people's opinions aren't something to ignore. Maybe they're simply feedback.

Data we get to decide what to do with.

I've spent most of my career evaluating information, and I know not all information deserves equal weight.

• Source matters.

• Context matters.

• Relevance matters.

Why should opinions be any different?

If several people who know me well and have a meaningful stake in my life raise the same concern, I'll probably pay attention.

Todd's opinion matters. We're building a life together, and my decisions can affect him just as his can affect me.

A close friend may see something I'm missing. Someone may ask a question I hadn't considered. Criticism can be useful.

And when several people we trust raise their eyebrows at the same time, it's probably worth considering what they're seeing.

Maybe "I'd never do that" really is that simple. It's data. I just get to decide how much weight to give it.

As for France?

I've considered the evidence.

I'm still going.