Life is strange. It’s beautiful in the strangeness, but it’s got an edge of danger. There’s this quote I read not too long ago about being on the edge of life instead of in the middle of it, because watching the chaos is better than being the center of that chaos. I like the visual that creates. It’s like this wild dance- if you’re in the center, you’ll be completely consumed, but if you’re too close to the edge, you fly out into nothingness. There’s a fine balance that exists, and I often find that balance difficult to achieve.
I got asked the other day if I believed in myself. Not just on a surface level, but at the true root of my being. The entire conversation was very emotionally charged to begin with, and despite responding with a “yes”, I don’t think I was very convincing. It’s funny, really. I’ve realized that I unintentionally come off as pretty confident to people I don’t know very well, but I think it’s a shell personality. It’s a way to protect the insecurity that I’ve always dealt with but haven’t been comfortable enough to let others see until recently.
I think it’s really difficult to transition from a personal outlook of insecurity to one of actually believing in yourself. It’s not as if I haven’t had supportive friends and family. I have. But I also had expectations that were astronomically high. Some of my most vivid memories from my past are ones where I just knew I let somebody down. My depression took that even further. I transitioned from somebody who had all sorts of potential to somebody who could barely function enough to do daily tasks like change clothes and eat. I suppose part of this disbelief in myself stems from a fear that I’ll be too overwhelmed with the business of this new life I’m leading and the thin pane of success I’m treading on will completely shatter. Of course, I know part of the issue is the living in the past that I’ve written about before, but I do know that I need to occasionally step back and look objectively at my actions and life to make sure I’m not unintentionally headed back down a road leading to depression.
I want to believe in myself. I want that surface confidence that I supposedly have to permeate through those layers and show up in the deeper parts of my life. Intellectually, I know I have some things about me that I can be proud of, but it’s truly believing it that is the hard part. It occurs to me that writing and exposing those insecure and vulnerable moments is a practice in being confident, which I believe is one reason why I do write about those topics so often. Perhaps with enough of that, the confidence will slowly start to become a secure part of my personality instead of just a surface decoration.
listening to Damien Rice