Strip the universe down to its bones and this truth remains:
The only external opinion of you that matters is that of your wife or spouse.
After that—only your own opinion of yourself.
Everything else is noise. Static. Background hiss from people who are not inside the arena with you.
Your spouse is the one who sees you at 6 a.m. and at 11 p.m.
They see you when you win, and when you’re wrecked.
They witness your habits, your discipline, your moods, your courage, your cowardice.
They are not watching a performance—they are living with the real you.
That’s why their opinion counts.
Not because of sentimentality.
Not because of romance.
But because proximity equals truth.
Everyone else? They see fragments. Highlights. Instagram angles. Moments edited for public consumption. Their opinions are guesses at best, projections at worst.
Your spouse doesn’t guess.
They know.
And then comes the final authority: you.
Your own opinion of yourself is the only verdict you carry to the grave.
It is the judge that never sleeps.
The one voice you cannot escape.
You can fool crowds.
You can charm acquaintances.
You can silence critics.
But you cannot lie to yourself—not for long.
At the end of the day, the question isn’t:
“Did they approve of me?”
It’s:
“Did I respect myself?”
Did you live in alignment with your values?
Did you push when it was uncomfortable?
Did you keep your word—to your body, your craft, your family, your future?
If your spouse respects you, and you respect yourself, you are already richer than kings begging for applause.
Everything else—likes, praise, status, reputation—is ornamental. Decorative frosting on the cake of a life that is either solid or hollow.
Build a life so grounded that you don’t need a jury.
Live so clean that your mirror doesn’t accuse you.
Love so fiercely that the one person who truly knows you stands beside you without hesitation.
That’s it.
Two opinions.
One partner.
One self.
Anything beyond that is optional.