A popular true crime podcast that I regularly listen to inspired me recently to stray slightly from my normal blogging content and discuss something a little more personal.  One of the podcasters mentioned that when she was young, she was told that she “worships on a throne of doubt.”  And this struck me – hard – in the gut.   So I had a Carrie Bradshaw moment…

Why is it that we consistently doubt ourselves, and let that doubt seep into every other part of our lives?

For me, my primary focus for this blog entry is interpersonal connection.  So here’s a little background.  I have found that over the years, mainly since I graduated college in 2012, my level of self confidence has plummeted and it has directly affected my ability to connect with others.  During my years as a college student I was visiting my best friend – the gym – 7 days a week for two hours per day.  And while it became an obsession for me, I was also in the absolute best shape of my life.  I felt incredible, and it showed.  The boost in self esteem was noticeable; I was glowing, and it made me magnetic in a way I had never been before, or since.  And I have been chasing that feeling ever since.

I know now that this self confidence I had between the ages of 18 and 22 was due only in part to my infatuation with fitness during that time.  Of course having a healthy passion and the body of my dreams contributed, it had so much more to do with being away from home, experiencing new people, and expanding my social network past boundaries I never knew existed.  On campus I knew very few people, so I was able to reinvent myself to be the person I always wanted to be.  And the beautiful thing?  Nothing about it was fake.  I was able to finally be the person I was inside without fear of judgment from the friends and family that had known my whole life.  I found that when I was at home the status quo was best.  Underdress, underrepresent, and underwhelm.  This was the mantra.  If I didn’t make people ask too many questions, then I didn’t need to explain whatever transformation was happening in my life.  Or, at the very least, if only went home for two days on the weekend I would only have to deal with the judgment and the questions for a short time, and then I could return to my little slice of heaven on Sunday night.

On campus I had found my people.  I was surrounded by innovators and artists and creators and bookworms and athletes and people of every type of ethnic and racial background, and every single one of them loved me for the friendship I offered and the person I was.  I was never asked to be anything different, and I developed relationships that have followed me since graduation.  I changed my hair color frequently and I got piercings and tattoos and walked through the world as if I knew what it meant, and that felt incredible.  That felt like freedom.  I was able to discover exactly who I wanted to be while simultaneously presenting my favorite version of myself.  I was allowed to make mistakes and learn from them.  I was allowed to forgive myself for messing up.  And I was allowed to be myself without fear of rejection from the people that had become my second family.  The fact is, the weirdos and geeks and freaks I came across changed my life, and I am forever grateful for every single one of them.  And I regret every second that I allowed myself to change.

After graduation I got an office job.  Like…literally the morning after graduation.  Enter pleated pants and wear-to-work attire, political correctness on steroids, and the removal of my freedom.  I no longer had opportunity to change or develop or evolve in the same way because I was no longer on a campus full of diverse people.  I no longer had seemingly unlimited time to explore the many parts of my personality.  And I realize now that my transformation back to my old scared, socially careful self happened very slowly, and then all at once.  Where before I was outgoing and confident, I am now timid and self-conscious.  I double and triple check every move before I make it, every text I send, every conversation I have.  I have developed a crippling fear of judgment, and rejection looms in the distance every second of every day.  Today, I worship on a throne of doubt.  I doubt my own abilities.  I doubt my own magnetism.  And I doubt my own worthiness.  A topic that comes up frequently for me in therapy is my feeling like I am undeserving of love.  I am consumed by the thought that who I am is not enough for other people, and over time I have come to believe that I’m not enough for me either.

At the end of the day my goal is to love myself.  I am fighting to find the girl I was in college and be her again.  I’ll get there, but it will be an uphill battle.  But the girl back then would have told me to shut up, get to work, and get it done.  So here I go…