Rebel Talk: Mr Misunderstood

Eric Church, through his music, has gotten me through many different times in my life. When I was going though my divorce, "Some Of It" played a lot. Another song of his, while an older one now because time moves so damn fast is Mr. Misunderstood. There’s a reason Eric Church wrote Mr. Misunderstood the way he did.

It wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t rebellion for attention.
It was acceptance.

Acceptance that not everyone is going to understand you—and that explaining yourself to people who aren’t really listening is exhausting.

We live in a world that constantly asks for reaction. Quick opinions. Instant engagement. Immediate clarity. If you don’t speak up right away, if you don’t play along, if you don’t perform enthusiasm, people assume something is wrong.

That’s where misunderstanding starts.

Some people don’t live on the surface. They think before they speak. They listen longer than most. Their minds are always moving—connecting dots, questioning motives, looking for meaning instead of noise. And in a culture addicted to speed and volume, that kind of presence can feel unsettling to others.

Eric Church captured that truth without apology. Mr. Misunderstood isn’t a plea to be accepted. It’s a quiet declaration of self-ownership. A refusal to explain yourself to people who are committed to misunderstanding you anyway.

That idea shows up in everyday life more than we admit.

Not long ago, my girlfriend pointed something out to me—playfully, respectfully. She said that sometimes I walk around with the male version of "resting bitch face". She wasn’t criticizing me. She knows me. She knows that most of the time I’m not upset, not closed off, not irritated. I’m just thinking.

But she also acknowledged something important: to people who don’t know me, that quiet focus can come off as unapproachable.

That moment stuck with me—not because it hurt, but because it was honest.

It made me realize how often depth gets mistaken for distance. How thinking gets mistaken for judgment. How silence gets mistaken for disinterest. From the inside, it’s just processing. From the outside, it can look like detachment.

And that’s the tension so many people live in.

You don’t want to be fake.
You don’t want to perform friendliness.
But you also don’t want to be misunderstood as cold or dismissive.

This weekend I went through a personal exercise. It was at my son's basketball tournament. I intentionally told myself on the drive over, that I was going to focus on not having a "resting bitch face". I was going to focus on being more approachable. I wasn't going to wait for others to engage, but instead this time I was going to engage. This doesn't come easy for me. So much of daily interaction is built on surface-level filler. Sports scores. Political noise. Automatic “how are you?” exchanges that rarely expect a real answer. Most of it isn’t connection—it’s habit. And for people wired for depth, that can feel draining. So as uncomfortable as it was, I made a point to seek out and target conversation. Conversation with others that I wouldn't normally start. I was going in blind, not armed with the latest sports scores or political updates. Not armed with anything other than the desire to try being more "approachable". Instead of overthinking, or waiting for others to engage, I sought it out. I engaged. What's the worst that can happen, right? While I didn't walk away with an epiphany or a wow factor, I did walk away knowing I can do it. 

This isn’t about thinking you’re better than anyone else. It’s about being honest about how you’re wired. Some people recharge through constant interaction. Others recharge through reflection. Neither is wrong—but they don’t always understand each other.

That’s why Mr. Misunderstood resonates with me so deeply. The song doesn’t ask people to get it. It simply says, I know who I am—and that’s enough.

That mindset matters in a world that pressures you to constantly explain yourself.

Living thoughtfully in a shallow culture can feel isolating. You may feel out of step—not because you’re falling behind, but because you’re refusing to move forward without intention. You may feel the urge to soften your edges, to make your thinking easier to digest, to be more palatable.

But clarity isn’t owed to everyone.

Some of the most grounded people you’ll ever meet speak less, not more. They choose their words carefully. They don’t waste energy on noise. They let their actions, their consistency, and their values speak for them.

And yes—sometimes that means being misunderstood.

If you’ve ever been told you’re too quiet.
Too serious.
Too intense.
If you’ve ever felt drained by shallow conversation and restless for meaning—

You’re not broken.
You’re not cold.
You’re not failing.

You’re just paying attention.

And in a world that rewards reaction over reflection, that might be the most rebellious thing you can do.

Stay Relentless,

Ryan