Where My Confidence Comes From Now That I’m Old and Swallowed by the Real World
In my retelling of my personal history both to myself and to the world, I have always been a confident kid. My mother nurtured all my interests - from singing, to drawing and painting, designing, pretty clothes, reading, makeup, guitar - whatever it was that caught my eye, my mother would indulge me. We weren’t rich, mind you, but she always found a way. She made learning easy, and because of that singular priceless gift, learning has always been a source of joy for me. Unlike most children, I suppose, I did it not because I had to but because I loved to.
At five, I would sing songs under the mango tree of my grandparents’ house. I had this little cute cassette player with a microphone attachment, and I’d go crazy with a treasured multiplex tape of songs from 90s animated films. (Gosh remember multiplex tapes?) I’d join poster-making competitions sponsored by Shakey’s pizza, join the debate team, become the editor-in-chief of my school paper and join press contests, perform with my high school band during school events, attempt to design stylish office uniforms for the rural bank Mama worked in. I’d be out there doing all these things because I enjoyed being passably good at stuff I like, and let’s be real, I also got a thrill from showing off.
Oh but don’t get me wrong though - despite all my extracurriculars, I was the very definition of socially awkward. I was never the popular, well-liked kid. Few people approached me because I didn’t know how to make friends. Different trauma, different conversation.
Anyway, the older I got, the more life chipped away at my self-confidence. The pandemic was closer to a wrecking ball, to be honest. All my long-held beliefs about the kind of person I was were challenged during those years. Surprisingly, the results were positive. I came out of the pandemic way more social that I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’ve become a more confident entrepreneur and creative.
Now my confidence has a different source. I realized that in most cases, my mistakes are fixable. I can change, and other people around me can too. No situation is ever really permanent if you think about it - not misery, not happiness, not ennui. Not success, not failure. Not good health or poor health. I’ve proven to myself that I can survive and thrive after the crucible too, because second chances exist.
And here’s the most important bit. Sit down, listen.
The hardest won second chances are the ones that we give to ourselves. They’re the most important because the seed of something new and different comes from allowing ourselves to believe again that we can make better choices. That our dreams are worth the unavoidable risks and the costs. That shame won’t destroy us if we can somehow see it for what it is and step away from it. That we’re not bad people, just sometimes hurt or angry or sad or all of the above, but not bad. That we are deserving of the same kind of kindness we so easily pour into others without a thought.
This is where my confidence comes from.
