Marissa Black | Staff Writer

When we say something too quickly or act rashly in the moment, our fear of others’ opinions can surface. For some of us—anyone else too much of a people pleaser?—we can feel as if our very future rests upon others’ perspectives on us. We want people to hear our names and think about us a certain way—we want our reputations to be linked to thoughts of our kindness or humor or courage or spontaneity. We become like a flustered Batman projecting our symbol to the night sky and hoping people associate it with the character traits or qualities that we most want associated with our image.

And that’s what reputation seems to be all about: image. It’s how others perceive us, whether in person or through a screen. Some have labeled our generation as the most image-obsessed, narcissistic, and self-interested group yet. But regardless of whether we actually fulfill those stereotypes, reputation is an undeniably human point of concern. Fear of harming our image or not living into a reputation we’ve so carefully crafted is sometimes the only thing that keeps us in check. We can find ourselves putting in considerable effort to protect and mould our external reputations.

According to Socrates, however, one’s reputation can be easily lost. “Regard your good name as the richest jewel you can possibly be possessed of — for credit is like fire; when once you have kindled it you may easily preserve it, but if you once extinguish it, you will find it an arduous task to rekindle it again. The way to a good reputation is to endeavor to be what you desire to appear.”

But trying to maintain our reputation or our image by ourselves can feel like juggling glass balls. We try to keep them all up in the air, struggling to preserve images of success or selflessness or popularity or intelligence. But when we try to manipulate or guide our reputation and how others view us, we end up just dropping glass. Things are bound to shatter when we squeeze our image too tightly.

And when things inevitably fall apart? When the façade shatters and the reputations we’ve worked so hard to polish smash at our feet? We stoop and scramble to put back together the shards ourselves. But our fingers only start bleeding and our hands are cut by any shaky attempts. We try to find the right glue or the strongest tape to piece it all back together. But we can’t. And a hand rests on our shoulders, saying, “come to me, all you who are wearied and burdened, and I will give you rest.” We can combat fear with confidence, and perfectionism with the knowledge that we could never attain what we wanted.

So let the pieces stay in pieces. They were spinning too fast to show your true reflection, anyway.