Where did my confidence go?
I have, for some weeks now, put on my weekly list “Elidir Fawr”. Elidir Fawr is a mountain my end of the valley, one that I see more or less every time I leave the house, one that I look at now from the ladder stile on which I am writing this. In fact, here’s a picture:
Elidir Fawr keeps going onto my list because I keep intending to climb it and then I keep…not climbing it. Sometimes this is because of weather, which is fair, but on days like this one, as you can see from the picture, that’s not really a reason. I keep putting it off because I don’t feel prepared enough, because I don’t know what’s up there. I Google image search for pictures of the summit so I can work out the terrain, I read blogs that weigh up the pros and cons of the various routes (none of which, by the way, say this is a challenging walk), and I just feel disquieted. While there is nothing scary about the pictures I’m looking at I have the shudder go through me that you get when you look over the edge of a steep drop.
One evening, after I have successfully convinced myself not to do Elidir Fawr the next day, I think “when did I get like this? When did I lose my confidence?”. Because that’s what it is. I have lost my confidence in my own capabilities. I feel out of my depth and unable to keep myself safe.
Loss of confidence is not always something you can pin point a “there” to. It is not always a plummet after overhearing a bit by conversation about your abilities or a falling out with a friend. Sometimes it leaks, and you go to look in the tank to find it empty, with just an outline of darkened earth where it has soaked away.
I map back through my mind. A year ago I was climbing mountains when I had nowhere near the experience and fitness I do now. Even in January I went up Siabod which is only a little bit smaller then Elidir, and I had no idea what would meet me there. What has happened to make me so uncertain of what I can definitely do?
The more you look the more you see. Evidence of my escaping confidence litters the last few months. It is in the pricing of an offering that I consider some of my best work, made as low as my friends and mentors would let me go. It is in the total collapse of my daily yoga practice. It is in my fearfulness and worry about my trip to Lisbon, something that as an adult woman I know I am capable of and yet fills me with dread that I will somehow…not manage.
When you lose confidence it saps your joy. I spend so long worrying about Elidir Fawr that I do not enjoy my evenings, nor the easier walks I end up doing. I do not enjoy thinking about new projects for work because I am constantly wrestle with this ogre saying “yeah but nothing you could do would be worth paying £10 for”. I do not enjoy planning for Lisbon because I don’t trust that I will be able to buy a ticket for a museum or feel confident enough to go and sit in one of these cafes.
Likely part of it is heartbreak and rejection, part of it is lack of sunlight, part of it is disappointment. But really, “where has my confidence gone?” is not the right question. It doesn’t matter why it left, it matters how I get it back.
I am giving myself opportunities to overachieve. I am no longer intending to climb Elidir Fawr but I have some different hikes I am looking forward to which are stretchy (distance-wise) but intimidating (terrain-wise). I am allowing myself to write the book which is the project I feel best about. I am reminding myself that a past me wouldn’t settle to charge less than I want to, and that if I want to build a new life I need to make friends with the financial part of that.
It is easier when the sun is shining. It will be easier still when there are leaves on the trees; from here I can see, if not green, a fur about the branches where buds are bulging. It is also easier when you realise. It is easier when you know the tank needs refilling because then you can start do something, rather than wondering why you’re so thirsty.
