Casually quoting Britney Spears song titles in my own post titles is actually quite enjoyable. all the same, the title works nicely, and i’m actually listening to that song now – RESULT!
… Oh, it finished. Sad face …
There is one person in my life who has brought this to light in my eyes. They are most likely reading this – if you are, heyyy!
I’m not confident. Apparently, to many of my blog readers, this comes as a surprise, although I cannot explain why; I don’t believe that I come across as an overly confident person online. Regardless, I’m not at all confident in myself, a fact that I’ve only just managed to accept. When speaking to unfamiliar people, I often go very quiet, and feel really sick. It’s difficult to explain, to be honest, but it’s like I’m irrationally terrified of anything new, unfamiliar or different, at least on the inside.
Sometimes, I can control it on the outside, plaster on a smile and keep going forward, my fear unnoticeable to those around me. At other times, however, my ability to hide just how frightened I am completely disappears, and I have to make excuses to leave the room, find a toilet or unused cupboard, and calm the fuck down before rejoining the group.
It’s almost impossible to describe this feeling as it is, and it’s made even harder to explain when trying to talk to a confident person about it. It’s like trying to describe the taste of chicken to a life-long vegetarian: hwo do you go about that? As I said above, the closest I can get is describing the sick-feeling, and the shakey hands, and hope that they can at least understand; I don’t expect them to be able to relate.
I’ve been trying recently to become more confident, after taking in what this person said about my lack of confidence, and how I under estimate my abilities [which, honestly, is probably true]. When I’m out and about on my travels, I’m trying to be more confident in asking for help if and when I need it, and I’m trying to engage in conversation with people at appropriate moments. for example, I used to be literally unable to say anything but the absolutely essential words to a ticket officer at my local station when buying a ticket. Now, however, I’ve start talking about the weather, asking them about their day, and asking what they’re doing at the weekend. Admittedly, these are small steps, but to me, they are significant, because they demonstrate that things are actively getting better, somewhat. Not all that long ago, I used to avoid buying drinks or lunch etc when I was out for the day, travelling, because I was that scared to speak to the shopkeeper, but these days, that’s not so much of an issue. sure, I still have a little tinge of anxiety as I walk up to the counter, but I’ve developed ways of overcoming them, and getting over myself enough to professionally go about my business.
Every time I’m successful in ordering a coffee, or maturely managing a conversation with a stranger without locking up and being unable to speak, I get a little boost of confidence: I’am, after all, demonstrating to myself that I’m able to find the confidence within myself to do what I want and need to do. Each time I get over those nerves, a little more of the doubt in my stomach, weighing me down like a stone, is rubbed away, an extra inch of freedom and confidence revealed.
Today, we had a builder in, to finally sort out our kitchen after the flooding we experienced in mid June [UK insurance companies are bloody slow]. Because our kitchen was completely out of access to us whilst the work was being done, my mum, sister and I went to the local café. Trust me, I wasn’t complaining; it’s lovely down there, and their toast is amazing, ad I don’t even know why. Anyway, after having our lunch [I had a small cooked breakfast thing, because I looked nice], all three of us sat outside, on these chairs and tables just outside the café. I’d had a Coke with my meal, and I really fancied a coffee by this point [we’re out of instant coffee in our house, and have been since Sunday, but the shopping has just arrived so all is good again]. Standing up, I walked back into the café, went to the counter and smiled.
‘Can I have a capaccino please?’
‘Yes, of course. It’s on us.’
I was almost speechless. First, I’d managed to oreer something without shitting myself, stumbling over my words or forgetting my manners. And then, secondly, the café owners had given it to me for FREE! I’m quite well known in this area, and people always like the out-and-about blind kid, so I guess that explains it, but they were just so kind. I thanked them no end, and went back outside; they offered to bring it out to our table once it was ready.
I did it.
And it made me feel stronger.