Confidence: Where Does It Come From and How Do I Get Some?

Honestly, it seems like such a simple word, but yet it remains one of the hardest things for me to grasp.

Defined by Merriam-Webster as:

1con·fi·dence

noun ˈkän-fə-dən(t)s, -ˌden(t)s

: a feeling or belief that you can do something well or succeed at something

: a feeling or belief that someone or something is good or has the ability to succeed at something

: the feeling of being certain that something will happen or that something is true

There must be some deeply-seated seed inside me that flat out refuses to allow me the grace of acquiring this very important trait. Essential for most everything one encounters in the course of life — believing in yourself. There are days when I can feign it for a short period of time, but in the end I will shrink back to the quivering pile of scared, non-believing jelly that I always seem to be.

Where does this thing called confidence really come from, and how to do I find it, nurture it, and allow it to grow as part of me?

There was a time when I thought this little blog of mine would help in the attainment of the ever-elusive confidence I was seeking. Primarily because I was looking to rebuild confidence in my writing. I have since determined that not only do I need to build up my confidence in writing, but in all other areas of my life as well.

I suppose that if I were actually able to believe in myself, it would naturally follow that I would develop confidence that then seeped easily into all other facets of my life. That’s my stumbling block: I just can’t seem to grasp the concept of believing in myself and trusting myself to do things well enough.

Is it my anxiety that stops me? Fear of failure? Fear of potential success? Do I really, deep-down, believe that I cannot do these things I dream of doing?

Is it that bit of OCD that keeps me locked into this insane cycle of telling myself I can’t  do these things?

Maybe it’s something even more obscure, like seeds inadvertently planted during the course of my childhood that despite telling myself have long since been washed away by time and therapy, but that are really just continuing to root out beneath the surface like some rampant, sneaky, subterranean, mutant weed?

Someone pass the weed killer…

I’m so over feeling like this all of the time.

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