My thoughts are messy, my heart is big, and my passion is a force so remarkably strong I neglect to filter my thoughts before I speak. However, I am rarely confident in any of those things.
I feign optimism and fake confidence daily. It’s not that I don’t believe in the power of optimism, I do. I surmise we all need a little shine from time to time. And, I am living proof that positive energy can change a person. Give them hope, turn a life around. But it isn’t easy for me. Confidence is something I struggle with daily. It may not seem as though I am afraid of much. It may not seem I worry greatly about what others think.
It may not seem…
Perception is a double-edged sword.
I am far from the confident women I habitually portrait. I’m a reckless over thinker and boy-oh-boy can I bend a compliment given and turn it into expressions I don’t deserve. Every day, I worry far too much of what others think of me.
Every. Single. Day.
Words don’t leave my lips without me questioning how they may have affected the person who heard them. I live in fear of my filter-less mouth because I don’t think before I speak, but after. I am passionate and stand up for what I believe in, to a fault. However, my worry of acceptance is great. My want for love and appreciation, greater. Though I never feel worthy of honor, I do have moments of pride.
I feel pride; I understand this emotion far better than certainty. I am proud of my accomplishments. I am proud of the Mother I am, the writer I am becoming and friend I so desperately try to be, but I am not certain in any of those things. I will perpetually push myself to do and be better. Always reaching for a perfection that does not exist, because how can it if I never believe I can get there. I don’t know what that makes me; I wonder who I am and what I have to offer, more often than I let on. I often question if I am worthy of any praise at all.
A couple of weeks ago I was nominated as a Voices of The Year Honoree. I haven’t published a word since the nomination went public.
I am scared.
In fact, I am terrified to write most days. Wait…I am never frightened to write; it’s my love. Except, I am bone chilling, body aching, heart-poundingly terrified, to hit publish. Not because I don’t believe in the thoughts or the words I write, but because I strive so desperately for acceptance. An acceptance I wonder if I deserve. Nevertheless, I know how hard I worked to get here, I know I am good, but am I good enough? This, my friends, is what happens in the disordered mind of an over thinker.
I want nothing more than to stand tall and scream from the rooftop; I won a blogging award! But, I fear I don’t deserve to place my feet on that roof. Please understand, I am incredibly proud of myself, humbled and more than honored. In a twisted mind-fuck, I feel my personality splits in half at this moment. A part of me wants to say, “I told you I could do it!” and the other side, quietly steps back, sinks inside and worries of my worth.
I often feel the perception of someone who is unable to take a compliment is that they are viewed as cocky or flippant. For myself, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Compliments turn me into an itchy uncomfortable mess. My lack of self-confidence has me shifting a compliment into lip service.
I am no star; I am a girl with a laptop, wanting to tap keys at a rate that holds truth in my heart. There is no reason to believe I am anything better than anyone, I am a wannabe writer, pacing a similar floor, looking for words of meaning. Wanting nothing more than to write my broken-hearted truths.
I heal here, on this page.
I have grown to be okay with that. To let my free spirit, and worried soul, fly. I have learned I am one of the over thinkers and soul searchers of this world. Furthermore, I have come to the realization; I will forever question my worth, and perhaps if we could all see through the walls each of us builds around ourselves our perception of others could include more kindness than judgment. More love than hate. More acceptance of one another.