I’ve been noticing some pretty bad behavior among outwardly confident people lately.
People who have been trained in the confident posture, the confident body language, the confident eye contact, and all the “right” words might know how to demonstrate that they are in control of any given situation, but do they know empathy?
Do they know when it is time to reconsider their perspective given mounting evidence that they might just be wrong?
Do they have any sense of how to show up as authentic human beings trying to solve a real problem?
I don’t know about you, but it isn’t confidence that wins my admiration and respect. It’s genuine courage.
While there are a lot of programs designed to help people (especially women) to have more confidence so they can be more “successful,” I’m starting to wonder if these efforts might be misplaced along the healthy developmental continuum.
These ponderings of late have led me to a little personal experimentation to test out the role of confidence in my own life. Here’s what I’ve discovered:
Confidence is not necessary nor is it always desirable in order for us to act courageously. In fact, authentic confidence, for me, seems to grow after a courageous act – even a very small one.
Recently, I did just a little something that took a surprising amount of courage for me. (I am not going to share what it was because, truthfully, you just don’t need to know in order to get my point.)
What matters is this:
I said “no thanks” to something that is presumed as routine.
My hands were shaking the whole time.
My heart was pounding in my chest.
I did not feel confident.
What I felt was resolve.
I did it. I didn’t die. No one pushed back. Eventually, my hands stopped shaking and my heart rate returned to normal. I chuckled at myself for having such big feelings about something so small. I lived to tell the story.
Afterward, my confidence grew enough that I did the thing again in a different setting a few weeks later.
I felt a little more confident after that next time, too.
Courage, I’m told, is not the absence of fear. It is the ability to act in spite of it.
My confidence didn’t show up until after I acted in a way that was hard for me.
After the stand.
After the discomfort.
After the realization that I could survive it.
I’m starting to think courage is what moves your feet.
Confidence then is what grows in the footprints.
keeping my hopes up,
p
