Confidence Isn't Loud

For a long time, I had a very specific picture of what confidence looked like.

She walked into a room and owned it.

Never seemed nervous.

Always knew exactly what to say.

Probably had the perfect comeback ready too, instead of thinking of it three hours later in the shower like the rest of us.

Confidence looked bold, outgoing and completely sure of herself.

At least that's what I thought.

Turns out, some of the most confident people I've met aren't particularly loud at all.

You won't always hear them announcing what they bring to the table or reminding everyone of their accomplishments. A disagreement doesn't automatically become an opportunity to prove they're right.

Sometimes confidence is simply being comfortable enough with yourself that you don't need the room to validate you.

There's Nothing to Prove

I think we confuse confidence with performance more than we realize.

Social media certainly hasn't helped.

We're constantly watching people tell us how successful they are, how unbothered they are, how amazing their relationship is, how much money they're making and how little they care what anyone thinks.

Maybe all of that is true.

Still, saying you don't care what anyone thinks every other Tuesday doesn't necessarily mean you don't care what anyone thinks.

Real confidence doesn't always need an announcement.

Walking away from an argument without getting the last word can be confidence.

So can knowing you're good at something without needing everyone else to acknowledge it.

There's something equally powerful about saying "I don't know" without feeling embarrassed or changing your mind when you get new information.

Then there's letting someone misunderstand you without writing a dissertation trying to correct the record.

That last one?

Still working on it.

Confidence Doesn't Mean You Never Doubt Yourself

This is probably the biggest misconception I had about confidence.

I assumed confident people didn't question themselves.

Meanwhile, I could second-guess a decision I'd already made, reconsider it, decide the original decision was right, and then somehow circle back around to questioning it again.

Surely confident people weren't doing all of that.

Except they were.

Having confidence doesn't eliminate insecurity, fear or doubt. The difference is what you do when those feelings show up.

Being nervous doesn't mean you can't walk into the room.

A little uncertainty doesn't have to prevent you from making a decision.

Fear can come along for the ride without being allowed to drive.

That's very different from waiting until you feel completely fearless before doing anything.

If that's the requirement, some of us are going to be waiting a very long time.

Sometimes Confidence Looks Like a Boundary

There's another version of confidence that doesn't get nearly as much attention.

"No."

That's it.

Not a three-paragraph apology or an elaborate story designed to make the other person understand why your answer is reasonable.

Just no.

Of course, that doesn't mean becoming cold or inconsiderate. There are plenty of times when an explanation is appropriate.

Knowing you don't always owe one is the difference.

Asking for what you deserve can take confidence too. So can leaving situations that continually diminish you, admitting something isn't working, or refusing to keep shrinking yourself so other people remain comfortable.

None of those things require you to raise your voice.

They require you to trust it.

You Don't Have to Become the Loudest Person in the Room

There's freedom in realizing confidence doesn't require a personality transplant.

Becoming the person who works every room, loves being the center of attention or has something to say during every conversation isn't a requirement.

A quiet person can know exactly who she is.

Someone reserved can still walk into a room knowing she belongs there.

Even stumbling over your words occasionally doesn't erase your confidence.

Neither does feeling nervous and doing the thing anyway.

Maybe confidence has less to do with how other people experience us and more to do with how we experience ourselves.

Do I trust myself?

Can I make a mistake without deciding I'm a failure?

Will I stand by what matters to me even when somebody else doesn't understand it?

Am I willing to take up the space that already belongs to me?

Those answers probably tell us more about confidence than how loudly we enter a room ever could.

I'm still figuring some of this out myself.

These days, though, confidence looks a lot less like having something to prove.

It looks more like finally realizing I don't.

Something to think about...

Has your definition of confidence changed as you've gotten older?

Mine certainly has.

And I have a feeling the quieter version might be the stronger one.