the insecure girl grows into a self-assured woman

but not because she bleached her hair or did what she was asked to

I’m standing at a birthday party for a friend, in a bar I’ve never been to, and everyone in the room looks incredible. I know enough of the people here to be a bit more involved and a little less unsure, but I’d rather stay tucked in the corner to wait for a drink by the bar— because it gives me something to do with my hands. I’m always hyperaware of my body and the way everyone in the room is perceiving it. I shove the thoughts to the back of my mind and pull the glass up to my lips. A little taste of alcohol will remove the voice in my head, the one that is screaming at me to leave.

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Later on, when they introduce me to new friends of theirs, they use words like “badass” and “insanely talented” and I float above my body because I don’t know how those words could ever be rightfully reserved for me. If there’s one thing I know about the people in my life— it’s that they are going to hype me up in whatever room I step into, no matter the occasion. I’m insanely grateful for the extra energy that goes into that. As uncomfortable as it makes me, I smile every time. This must be what being seen feels like. I’m still growing into it.

“She has the confidence of a fly, for someone so insanely talented and as cool as her” I cringe. So everyone outside of me sees it too? …My lack of confidence in uncertain situations. This confirms what I’ve known my entire life….I have carried around the story that I am not a confident person. It’s no wonder that narrative has been passed along to others in my life as well.

For as long as I can remember, confidence was attached to my physical body.

As young girls, the concept of confidence is beaten into us this way: it means you’re comfortable in your own body, the idea that you know you're pretty, you're capable, you feel proud of how you look and damn sure and proud of how the world perceives you. 

As an adult, I watch women on the internet stack their phone on the ledge of a sidewalk, on a busy street and pose to show off their outfit on video. How the fuck do you get to that level of confidence?

Maybe it sounds silly when you say it out loud in such a simplistic format, but I truly internalized this concept for most of my life. It made my insecurities worse.

Because of it, I have never considered myself a confident person. I have never, ever felt comfortable in my own body. In fact, I spent the first 22 years of my life doing everything I could to forget that I had one; to leave it completely. That cannot be what confident girls do. They’re supposed to be innately attached and aware of their bodies. They're supposed to be proud of them. Therefore, I must not be confident. 

For decades, the story became: I have no confidence. And so sometimes in rooms or in intimate spaces, the story becomes who I am. 

I used to believe confidence was loud. It was in the way you dressed, in the way that you can present yourself perfectly and turn the most heads in a room. It was in the way someone speaks loudly and clearly with no hesitation. The way they can take up space and not apologize for it. Confidence meant sucking up all of the energy of the room, demanding it be placed within you. Confidence was the charm of my ex-boyfriend, who could talk to a brick wall and let it roll off his shoulders if someone didn’t take to his loud laugh. Just act like the queen you are, he’d say before we entered each room.. doing his best to hype me up. The difference in our life paths' was always the most striking here, within this space of defining confidence. He never had to experience the awkwardness of having a body you’re ashamed of, one you believe has led you to all the wrongs done to it by other people. Instead, he walks into a room with swagger and self-assurance, his body calm and his shoulders broad. He was always ready and willing to step out of the light if it meant giving me more of it, eagerly pushing me before I was ready. I’ve envied his confidence and charm for most of our lives.

I have also alluded confidence to being fit properly with societal beauty standards. To checking the boxes of doing what society expects..not even necessarily of what makes us actually feel beautiful. As a young girl, I was conditioned to believe that if you followed these standards, the world rewarded you with loving yourself- with more confidence.

But as an insanely insecure girl, I knew I would never be naturally confident. I believed I had no choice but to buy myself there. With bleached hair, sleeves of tattoos, endless clothes —and now that I’m growing older: the possibility of botox and filler.

Oh, how the system works so well. I wonder how many of us are still buying into this concept: the notion that if you invest more into how your physical appearance is presented, you will ultimately have more self-assurance. more self love. more validation. more swagger.

When I turned 13, I began highlighting my hair blonde. I would sit in the chair for hours as a teen, listening to my family friend delicately curl the foils around thousands of strands of hair, as I zoned out in the spin of the fan on the ceiling. I do remember once being frustrated when I was playing outside with neighborhood friends, because I didn’t want to get in the car to go and sit there at the saloon. I realized young that this would always be a sacrifice of my time. I don’t remember ever making this decision— but it was something my mom had done her whole life, and when she made me the appointment— It was understood that this is something you went ahead and did. A right of passage.

I have been highlighting my hair for 19 years now. without question.

I have always been the shiny bright blonde girl who all of the boys like. Boys love blonde hair. Attention from the world meant ultimately growing my confidence. I wonder how many thousands of dollars I’ve spent chasing this illusion.

Last year, I stopped bleaching my hair for the first time since I was a child. I’m still unwinding what it feels like to be the more unpolished token.

While it’s heartbreaking to say that most beauty standard rituals won’t actually improve your own self-respect or love, it’s difficult to ignore the fact that it does buy you more protection.

When women step towards conformity, we’re able experience allllll of the safety we’re seeking within social benefits— like social acceptance, positive attention, and even perception of greater competence and skillsets. You’ll always get a seat at the table as a pretty woman. Even if they pick you apart in the end for it, anyway.

Those moments are what I’ve always believed confidence was. And all of the times when I’ve felt the most beautiful in my life were never in those done up moments, which was insanely conflicting. It always felt more like a mask than anything else, more pretend play that I have to keep up with. Stealing my energy moment by moment, year by year. I wonder how many masterworks of art and ingenuity are lost to the sands of time because women are forced to focus on chasing the never-ending idea of confidence.

I’ve felt the most beautiful in other moments— after an ocean swim with no makeup when my skin wrinkles a bit more, because it’s dry from the salt and my freckles show through. Or when I’m painting in the studio and there is no one to linger or witness, just the work coming through and my body as the conduit. Or when I’m hiking a trail with my pack and my hair is in braids because I’ve been sleeping on the ground and haven’t had a proper shower in more time than I’d like to admit. I’ve even felt beautiful in an OR recovery room, with the tubes coming out of my nose and arms, my belly swollen with life from the way it’s protected and kept me here longer than I should have been.

Don’t get me wrong, it would be unfair to say I’ve never felt beautiful or confident in those other moments— the ones where I’ve followed the list and done up my hair and put eyelashes on, and the curves of my body fit the tight little dress perfectly. I have turned heads in many rooms and absolutely loved it. But the feelings associated with that form of attention never stuck around for just little old me. I wanted to hold it in my hands for the darker, more lonesome moments. But when I went back to pull it out and searched for it, it was never there.

So when that form of physical confidence was never steady or prolonged, I felt as though it was a me problem. With my body, confidence was always fleeting. So I began the quest to chase after it, year by year, dollar by dollar— hoping it would stick around just a but longer.

I do not want my life to be defined by how my body and face are perceived by the world. I want my life to be defined how I feel inside of my body, how it feels to be the most honest version of me. Not how it feels to check all of the boxes and be the good, shiny girl.

What then, if the story becomes: “I am a very confident person”?

If I am able to detach the definition of confidence from the physical body, I can see confidence for what it truly is. It is instead, the feeling or belief that one can rely on someone or something; firm trust. When it comes down to it, I trust myself more than I’ve trusted any other thing in this life. Even when it has been incredibly shaky. Even when others have tried tirelessly to convince me otherwise. That firm trust has never left my side.

I have never believed myself to be a confident person because my form of confidence is not always outwardly celebrated in societal measure. I think my form of confidence is much more quiet, more steady. It is found in that deep self-trust and inner knowing.

The world does not want to celebrate women for that form of confidence though, because it is the form that could bring the world as we know it, to its knees.

If we stopped chasing the form of false, protective confidence sold to us by a system that needs nothing more than to keep us distracted— how would we spend our time? Our resources? Our life?

How would we view ourselves and others? Would we spend less time worried about how we are perceived and more time living unapologetically?

There is a lot of alchemy in my life that I’ve never attributed to me, because that would require acknowledging my quiet form of confidence. I’ve sold myself on a false narrative most of my life rather than leaning into the form of pride that comes with saving your own life.

When I really deconstruct the idea that confidence is only connected to my physical self or mask, I am actually incredibly confident. And the evidence is in the life I've created for myself: my friendships, the community I've built, and my career and businesses that have no roadmap. In the healing of things that others won’t even look at or speak about. That takes guts, kid.

It takes guts to leave the 7-year relationship after being manipulated and lead to believe you amount to nothing, with only 300 dollars in your bank account. It takes guts to leave a stable career to build a life of creation and freedom and at times, deep heartbreak and rejection. It takes guts to build something from nothing and show up day after day even after being kicked in the teeth. It takes guts to heal trauma that others won’t even acknowledge or talk about, that blinds you with pain each time you have to go there. It takes guts to see what’s missing from the world and work to build it, hoping and praying you have the right amount of leadership to create a safe space for other women. It takes guts to invest in relationships around you after being harmed in more ways than you’ve ever been loved. It takes guts to spill your heart out on the internet or on the canvas, with no reward for it other than knowing you’ve touched other people and made them feel less alone.

The world forgets to applaud women for this form of confidence. But I’ve been able to stand back and clap for myself all of these years, when at moments, it went uncelebrated. If that weren’t true, I wouldn’t be here. When at my lowest moments, I was dragging myself up off of the bathroom floor, with nothing to my name and no ground to stand on. This form of delusion can be nothing other than confidence. How have I not seen it all of this time?

I won’t walk in a room and be the loudest person there, or agree to public speak in front of hundreds of people. But I will often find myself walking into a room full of strangers and know that I have the ability to make someone, if not several people, in that room feel extremely safe and intentionally seen. 

Because I’ve been able to do that for me, all of my life. I can build upon that idea of firm trust.

Feeling seen stimulates the confidence we all long so deeply for. Do not let this world create a false definition of confidence that you will likely never achieve— one that will form a narrative in your mind and prevent you from ever stepping out into the light.

While I’m still very much the awkward little girl whose learning to love her ash- brunette hair and the way she holds her body in space without the reliance of alcohol at a party— I am also the woman who recognizes the power I hold in building my own life— in saving my own life— because she trusts in her ability to bring her absolute best out into the world.

Both exist here inside of me, and I’m now committed to gently coaxing them out into the light.

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