Confidence was never really my strong suit.
In seventh grade, the final year before everyone would transition to high school, I transferred to a new school. With the move, I knew no one.
On my first day, I kept to myself while pre-established cliques and friend groups flashed by me. During this time, one of my new classmates tauntingly told me something that crushed whatever confidence I had built up: “You know, if you moved here earlier, maybe you’d have made friends.”
After that rough start, the rest of seventh grade did not end up becoming the stellar year I had hoped for. I remember meekly trying to speak to my new classmates. However, many of these encounters would end up with me awkwardly retreating into silence before a proper conversation could transpire.
Throughout that year, I frequently told myself to step out of the way. Any attempts I made to integrate myself with the rest of my classmates felt ineffective. I grew paranoid: passing laughter felt directed at me, everyone I met did not seem all that interested in me, and I always felt like the odd one out among a crowd.
So I assured myself it would be best for me to get through school on my own. Yet deep inside, I still yearned to truly become a part of the community—I simply didn’t know how to go about it at the time.
It took me until my first year of high school before I could confidently say that I had made a friend.
Perhaps it was that entire experience that gave me the rather negative mindset and self-image that I harbor even to this day. Accepting the simplest of compliments is difficult while opening up grew more and more challenging over the years. Shutting myself within the recesses of my mind helped me create a mask that I presented to the world. That front bore a friendly smile and a cheery expression—yet behind it was a paranoid mind prone to overthinking every little detail.
Thus, I frequently looked down on myself; no longer just in terms of social capabilities, this self-doubt spread even to how I viewed my hobbies and outputs. Art pieces and writing done in my downtime never felt good enough to be shared. It even came to a point where I resented creating anything else in fear of wasting energy in producing nothing worthwhile.
It was frustrating.
A part of me still believes that I don’t belong in a lot of places, like a broken jigsaw piece—forever doomed to never fit in.
Attempting to better myself through the years from the support of my peers, I started to try and actively change my mindset.
For my duration in college, I made a promise to myself to do things differently. I did not want to repeat my mistakes in high school. I decided to push myself to get out of my comfort zone and go beyond what I had become accustomed to through the years. Jumping out of my comfort zone was not easy, yet I knew that it was for the best.
It was then when I made the mental effort to be the one to take the initiative, so to speak, in forging friendships. I decided to try and place myself in situations I normally shied away from in the hopes of growth. Through actively joining organizations, I was able to put myself in a position to meet and become close to a plethora of new faces. Even in general day-to-day classes: I put in the effort to speak first in simple interactions with classmates and even try my best to muster up the courage to raise my hand when I know the answer to a professor’s question.
I exerted effort toward putting myself in positions where I would need to develop people and leadership skills, which is something my younger self would’ve quickly turned away from. I talked myself into pursuing these endeavors as they helped me develop confidence in myself and helped me find my place within a community.
Now I write with the purpose of unraveling the lies I often tell myself. Instead of self-deprecating thoughts in response to anything I accomplish, I have gradually learned to take pride in victories large and small from the smallest gestures—like being the first to introduce myself in a conversation—to grander accomplishments like writing a column for a school publication about these exact experiences.
While I find it no problem at all to bolster the pride and self-worth of others, what I need to work on is treating myself with the same level of respect, belief, and kindness. It’s okay to be proud of yourself every once in a while, you’re worth more than you really let on. It’s okay to give yourself a pat on the back every so often—most especially when you tussle with the voices in your mind that tell you otherwise.
