Henrietta. O: Article.
The Art of Being!
This article was culled from Henrietta. O,s substack.
There is something tragically beautiful about choosing ourselves; it’s a return to sovereignty, to remembering, to that inner, unshakeable knowing that we matter even when nothing around us is reflecting that truth. I wasn’t blessed with an overwhelming level of confidence as a child; in fact, I was meek and unassuming. I didn’t have many friends growing up, and spent most of my time getting lost in my thoughts and playing with my siblings, the neighbourhood kids and the few friends I had. I was told consistently to come out of my “shell” as if confidence was hiding in the cocoon of meekness.
One advantage of being withdrawn, shy and unassuming is that you spend most of your time observing people and patterns, you become highly skilled at predicting outcomes in mundane situations with psych-like precision that it’s chilling for others to witness. I became very good at noticing things that many people gloss over: a change in intonation, a glance that doesn’t quite sit well, body language that leaves little to the imagination. This level of attunement was met with equal levels of awe and scrutiny, the latter led me to doubt my perception and intuition. Anyone with this ability will be quick to tell you that they have been told time and time again that they are overacting, too sensitive and seeing patterns where none are present. And so they shrink themselves to fit in, so they don’t draw in confusion or contempt from others. In a way, we dim our light, our confidence, to seem acceptable. We are uncomfortably comfortable living as fragmented versions of ourselves, versions of ourselves that don’t break the status quo. This is simply due to our upbringing, social conditioning, and ideas passed down to us. We have no control over what ideas are passed on to us, but we can always question them and find meaning even in things that seem absurd.
When it comes to building confidence, there is this outdated belief that some people are simply born with it or that it is a trait that can be passed down like eye colour, height or even hair texture. I learnt not too long ago that I was living life as a fragmented version of myself – and keeping my true self hidden to avoid judgment and misunderstanding from others.
I never shared my thoughts, my opinions, my music taste or anything that others could chip away at. A lot of my preferences (the stuff I never shared) came from a silent part of me that wanted to rebel from norms. The preferences that others saw were based on their expectations. At the time, I’d describe myself as a social chameleon, adapting to whatever the situation demanded. This probably explains my music taste, my obsession with art, languages, science, psychology and history. I wanted to escape the world by allowing my mind to wander into a place where all fragments were welcomed and no judgment could stay.
I noticed one common trait among all the confident people I had met (truly confident people): they were not afraid to be. They allow themselves to exist, even if it isn’t the popular choice; they allow their quirks to be a natural part of their self-expression, even if other people find it cringeworthy. They aren’t trying to be perceived in a certain way; they are simply perceived.
The first time I witnessed true confidence that inspired me was back in the summer of 2023, when I was in Whistler, BC, for my friend’s wedding. We rented an Airbnb for the entire wedding party, which consisted of about 16 people, if my memory serves me correctly. As an introvert, this experience was extremely overwhelming, and I didn’t get much sleep; I was overstimulated to the point of irritation. Despite the chaos, I was drawn to someone in the wedding party. Katie was a bit withdrawn and spent most of her time alone. She woke up early and would go into town for a walk or a swim. She seemed strange to everyone else, but something about her drew me in. Two days before the wedding, our party of 16 went to Joffre Lake, a provincial park about an hour’s drive north of Whistler, BC. Katie and I were hiking the trails together, and she immediately noticed someone in our party wasn’t with us shortly after reaching the first glacial lake. We ended up splitting from the group to find him, going all the way back to the start of the trail.
To be continued on Substack.
