If only they really knew me, they would like me even less!

People judge us by where we come from, by our appearance, by our age, by our religion. They dislike us for the work we do; they dislike us for what they have heard about the work we do. They dislike us for real and legitimate reasons—mistakes we have made, positions we have taken—and for completely fabricated reasons. They project their own insecurities, their own problems onto us. They attribute to us the consequences of their own ignorance, their own deficient comprehension skills, their own poor taste. Have you ever seen, as Kipling said, the truths you have spoken twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools? It is something maddening and sad. Epictetus, however, says we must face all this with a smile. In fact, he joked that when we find ourselves criticised or disliked by some stranger, instead of trying to convert them or argue with them, we should simply say to ourselves, 'If only they really knew me, they would like me even less!'" The fact that people dislike us for invented and ridiculous reasons should not bother us. Superficial and unfounded criticisms are not what we should be concerned with. Instead, let’s focus on what we know we can improve, where we are not meeting our own standards. And if there is any external feedback we consider, any approval we seek, let it come from people who know us well, whom we admire. […] We can ignore everyone else.   This immediately reminded me of a colleague from university. The name I will use is not their real name, but their story is true. It's like superheroes: we all know their story, why they exist, but we don't know their real name. However, I think it hardly matters because he has passed away. He died due to his diabetes. He died before finishing his degree. And the short time I spent with him made me like him a lot. In fact, he probably liked me more than I liked him. Unfortunately, I say now. My consciousness at the time didn’t allow me to see the greatness of the human being he was. His name will be João. The same name as my middle brother. Like my middle brother, João from university was one of the kindest people I have ever known.

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Episode Transcript

(00:14):
I am increasingly annuned with the Stoicphilosophy, and the more I studied,
the more I amazed I become.That's why I receive a daily newsletter titled
Daily Stoic. In one of them, it said the following. Not everyone
will like you. There is noone, not even Marcus Aurelius, who

(00:38):
was universally loved, either during hislife or afterwards. It can be difficult
to accept this, but sometimes itis even harder to accept the reasons why
people do not like you. Peoplejudge us by where we come from,
by our appearance, by our age, by our religion. They dislike us

(01:02):
for the work we do. Theydislikes us for what they have heard about
the work we do. The dislikesus for real en lilited reasons, mistakes
we have made, positions we havetaken, and for completely fabricated reasons.
They projected their own insecurities, theirown problems onto us. They attribute to

(01:26):
us the consequences of their own ignorance, their own deficient comprehensions, skills,
their own poor taste. Have youever seen, as Kimpling said, the
truth you have spoken twisted by knavesto make a trap for fools. It
is something maddening and sad. Epictetus, however, says we must face all

(01:53):
with a smile. In fact,it joked that when we find ourselves criticized
or dislike by some stranger, insteadof trying to convert them or argue with
them, we should simply say toourselves, if only they really knew me,
they would like me even less.The fact that people dislike us or

(02:15):
invet ridiculous reasons should not bother us. Superficial and unfound criticism are not what
we should be concerned with. Instead, let's focus on what we know we
can improve, where we're not meetingour standards, and if there is any
external feedback we considered. Any approvalwe seek, let it come from people

(02:39):
who know us well, who weadmire. We can ignore everyone else.
These immediately remind me of a colleaguefrom university. The name I will use
is not their real name, buttheir story is true. It's like superheroes.

(03:00):
We all know their sorry why theyexist, but we don't know their
real name. However, I thinkit hardly matters because he has passed away.
He died due to his diabetes,He died before finishing his degree,
and the short time I spent withhim made me like him a lot.

(03:21):
In fact, he probably liked memore than I liked him. Unfortunately,
I said now, my consciousness atthe time didn't allow me to see the
greatness of the human being he was. His name will be Juan John in
English, the same name as mymiddle brother. Like my middle brother,

(03:46):
Juan from university was one of thekindest people I have ever known. Here
is the story. This is theDavid and Goliath podcast, and I will
tell you real stories from normal peoplewho had great, mighty wars and defeated
their giants. I met Swaun inOctober of nineteen ninety four, which means

(04:11):
it was thirty years ago when wewere admitted into the Faculty of Engineering at
the University of Porto. I waseighteen years old, and I was so
naive, so inexperienced, so insecure. I say this now, but at
the time I felt the opposite.The number one. There is a tradition

(04:33):
here in Portugal, in the universitiesthat when a freshman entered the university,
they are immediately asked. I cansay it is a very old custom.
We were always asked as after classesbecause the older students at the time were
afraid of being reprimanded for disturbing thenormal functioning of the institution. It was

(04:58):
in these classes, a theoretical classof mathematical analysis. One that I met
Juan. I sat in a seatin a large amphitheaters and by faith or
not, he and Pedrou, anotherguy, sat next to me. Both
were from the city of Porto,so it was quite natural that they noticed

(05:25):
I wasn't from the city. Theyasked me, are you from a surge?
And I thought to myself, froma surge? Can these guys tell
that I'm anything but from the surge? Later I found out that they,
the people living in on the mainlandat the time, knew very little about

(05:48):
what was happening on the island,including distinguishing the accent. No, I'm
not from a surge. I'm fromMaderia, I replied, in somewhat irritated
Do you know it Madeira? Theoh, yes, Albert Juaum. That's

(06:08):
the name of a characteristic president ofMadeira at the time. They said this
while trying to mimic my accents,which actually sound more Assorian. Then came
the typical question of the time.This one always got to me, so
are you enjoying? Are you enjoyingbeing here in Portugal? Seriously, you're

(06:31):
asking me this question since I hadparachuted into a city I beryl knew and
hardly knew its people. I answeredin a way not to offended anyone.
Yes, I'm enjoying it, Andof course it was this answered with a
yellow forced smile. Hello, Francisco, I'm Juan, and this is Pedro.

(06:57):
Juan introduced himself, and that's whatThat's how I met the great Juan.
Welcome to Porto. You will likeit here. If it were now,
we could have exchanged phone numbers,gone to do to a bar,
to chat, talk about my experience, and other things most likely trivial,

(07:17):
but what ordinary people do to whichI account myself. So, without realizing
it, I admired my first friendin Porto. I always saw Juan during
the asing ritual. In fact,during the sessions, I often stood next
to Juan and Peru, but Ididn't see him at the freshman parties.

(07:43):
Yes, there were lots of academicparties all over the city at that time.
Many times I thought I was inparadise. Forget one hundred virgins Porto
in October nineteen ninety four was paradise. One day in class, I went
to him and asked why I didn'tgo to the parties, and he answered

(08:03):
me, I'm attacked one diabetic,so I shouldn't go out at night and
much less drink alcohol. And hecontinued, I have to take insulin daily
otherwise I will die. At thetime, I didn't realize it, but
standing before me was a man withthe capital M. Juan was one of

(08:26):
the highest scoring students to enter MechanicalEngineer that year, but it never show
it. He was so humble.I only discovered this a few years after
his death. That's why he wasgreat. His humility was incredible. We
were always together at university. Itseemed like he was there to support me,

(08:48):
to guide me. I felt asthough he stended that I was still
naive, and so he wanted tobe my side, almost like a protect
It was during one of these thosetimes when you were at university waiting for
a lecture, that he told meabout his life journey up to that point.

(09:18):
Juan was born in nineteen seventy six. I don't remember the month,
but if he were alive, hewould be the same age as I am.
You know, Francisco. I've alwayshad health problems. It's not a
recent thing. Start telling me ofone of those times when you were at

(09:39):
university waiting for a practical or theologicalclass. You don't know me, but
I am a tall person one meterin nineteen two centimeters of height. I
take after my father, and likemy father, I am dark skinned.
Juan was as white as shot.He had blue eyes, curly air,

(10:03):
and wore glasses with brown brown framesthat cover his all his face. He
was a quiet character. We loveda lot. Juan was short. I
don't know exactly how short, butshorter than most people. I think since
I was a kid, I've beendiabetic, but I managed to overcome all

(10:26):
other bottles I had early in mylife. He told me proud of that
achievement, but at a moment Ididn't fully grasp it. When I was
a kid, I must have beenabout six or seven years old, I
don't know. At that time,I had wear of orthothopedic boots to strange

(10:48):
the inward covert in that I hadin my legs. He recalled, tell
me this in a typical portal accent. Whenever my father told me we had
to go to the orthopedist. Ialways got annoyed because I just didn't like
to the doctor's office, he said, with somewhat exasperated expression, as if

(11:13):
revealing the situation. But what wasit about the doctor's office that made it
so annoyed? I asked it,curious to know the answer, he replied,
I will tell you how it was, and then you have your picture.
Okay, So he started. Theday of the appointment would come first.

(11:35):
We'd arrive at the reception. Itwas like a long corridor, but
in reality it wasn't. There wereseveral chairs for the patient to sit on.
If you sat and looked to yourleft, you'd see the person in
charge of the doctor's schedule. Idon't remember what she looked like, but
I remember the desk was dark brown, with papers piled up on both sided,

(12:01):
probably other passions, files, anda green old phone with a pursing
belt that felt like it was drillinginto our ear drums, at least it
did to Wine. My father wouldalways go to her to give my name
and confirm the appointment with the doctor. The walls were covered with white tiles

(12:24):
immacted lightly white, so white theymust have clean every crevice with the cotton
bud. The floor was light greenwith dark shapes resembling squares or triangles.
I'm not sure. There were nopictures, not a single one. The
light was so white, so metallic, that sometimes itterted my eyes. It

(12:48):
gave such an artificial feel to theplace, like something out of a science
fiction film. And the smell,oh my god, the smell was that
typical hospital smell, disinfected mixed witha alcohol scent that seemed to be used
only in these environments. No onespoke in that space. Everyone remained silent,

(13:13):
including my father, who would sitnow next to me. After talking
to the lady. After what likelong hours. It might not have been
hours, but it feels like aneternity, he said, the piercing light
green phone would ring, the ladywould get up, walk toward us,
and show us the way to thedoctor's room. We entered a reality opposite

(13:39):
to that of the reception. Everythingwas dark except of the doctor's desk,
with the light white shining on thepapers where he was writing as he walked
in. While he welcomed us,he sat in some very comfortable chairs.

(14:00):
Shortly after he would get up,turn on the light, and have me
look at my legs. He wouldmake me walk, observing closely all the
details that my legs revealed to him. He would point out a few things,
look at my father and say ithas improved, but not enough.

(14:22):
Come back in four months to seethe progress. For now, keep wearing
the boots. Oh I felt devastated. At least another four months, most
likely another year. I couldn't standthose boats anymore. Two years of torture.
At least four months, he empathizedthe at least to return that place,

(14:48):
oh man. The problem was thatmy knees were inclinet inwards he meant
towards inside of his legs. Sowhen I left that office, I promised
myself that I wouldn't spend more thanfour months with those boots I hated.
Whenever I walk and I was awareof them, I would correct the picture
of my legs. So, inaddiction to the boats helping me wherever I

(15:13):
wanted them to do or not,I was forcing myself to get better.
We all know we live in acrew world. Just Marcus Aurelius, the
Emperor of Rome. Juan was teasedat school because of the boots and his
way of walking. Francisco. Icried a lot because of this, Juan

(15:35):
recalled, But like every hero inthis podcast, Juan turned this pain into
challenges, and he continued, SinceI was teased because of those damn boots,
I started to take revenge through mystudies. I studied like crazy.

(15:56):
I know I grabbed things quickly,but I wanted to work hard to be
the best in school. He saidthat with a determined look, and he
did manage to become the best inschool and at the same time get rid
of those cursed boots. He continues. When I went back, the doctor

(16:17):
was amazed how quickly I had improved. And yes, I could now wear
normal shoes just like everyone else.Hallelujah. I remember him saying this with
such a conviction and pride. Istopped going to that sterle office that made
me so noxious, he recorded witha laugh. Suddenly he was no longer

(16:42):
known as the cripple, but asthe best in school, the brain,
the Einstein, as he called himself. I never went back to the office,
fortunately, But unfortunately I have togo to the hospital when I have
a crisis. This is something Ihaven't gotten riding of yet, and I

(17:03):
don't know how maybe I will haveto live with it. As long as
I always come out that's what matters. It's said that again with a sad
determination. How well, how wellI remember this moment. Juan didn't manage
to finish the university. Up tothe fourth year, he completed everything on

(17:26):
the time, without failing any subjects, always with good grades. However,
at the end of the fourth year, in the middle of the exams,
Juan had a major crisis called diabeticquito acidosis, which is extensively a massive
build up of acids in the blood. He couldn't overcome it and died.

(17:51):
What a shame I couldn't spend moretime with him. I liked the Juano
lote. I realized this when Iheard of his death. But there were
people who didn't. They judged himby his appearance, just as I did

(18:14):
when he sat next to me inour maths class at a faculty on roder
Braga's in Porto. And like me, who liked to please everyone, Juaun
didn't give a damn, as hewould say in his good port accent,
about those he didn't care about.That boy who looked so frail had incredible

(18:37):
strength. He didn't tell me hiswhole life story. But from what I
saw up close, I can trulyconfirm that greatness isn't major by stature.
How often do we play so muchimportance on what others think of us?
How many times I have eyes stressedand gotten upset knowing that someone had the

(18:57):
wrong impression of me, that Iwasn't they were saying. I'm currently reading
a book called Letting Go by DavidR. Hawkins, who writes about the
Western way of applying the Buddhist dynamiccalled action through non action, or in

(19:18):
other words, release let it go. In short, this book explains that
whenever a negative feeling arises, weshould not hold onto it, but let
it go. We should try tounderstand why it appeared, and in doing
so eliminate the blogs or shadows thatare populating our soul. The aligns with

(19:45):
what I said at the beginning.Superficial and unfound criticism are not what we
should worry about. Instead, let'sfocus on what we know we can improve
where we are not meeting our ownown standards. Let go of what other
think of us. It doesn't matter, but matters as if we have immense

(20:10):
in trinity, like the Emperor ofRome, or like my father, who
was, as you know, myhero, the rest doesn't matter. Incredibly,
I met someone who thought his waythirty years ago, Juan. I
feel so grateful to have known him, and to have only after thirty years,

(20:30):
truly understood his real superpowers, whichis his faith, determination, courage
and focus. May we be likehim and like my father, as upright
as the Eiffel Tower. A bighug, Juan, wherever you are