It was probably the fourth time in the last year that I’ve heard the phrase—by four different women. Man, what did I do to deserve this? Of course, we could laugh it off now, but as she told me how much I use to intimidate her, I’ll admit, I felt a bit of offense. Me? Intimidating?
There’s always that chance to ask her why. Why did she think I was so intimidating? Why did she feel she couldn’t approach me and stood back in a distance silently judging me? Now, she’s loving all of this girl right here but, not always.
You’re so confident.
You know who you are in Christ, and that’s intimidating for a woman like me.
I’ve heard it all. I get it often…
Confidence isn’t something that is easily understood. On one hand you’re a leader, someone people respect and look up to. Someone that people can count on. On the other hand, you’re judged…called obscene words that normally start with a giant “B”, and you’re inapproachable.
There’s a fine line between confidence, arrogance, and insecurity.
But, if we’re being honest, I don’t have it all together…at all.
If we’re being honest, this girl you think I am, she intimidates me too.
I’m messy.
I have 100 things that have to get done and I often find that I choose the things that bring me joy or feelings of accomplishments first.
I hate my body—my chin, my arms, my mom stomach, my jiggles everywhere.
I typed in “mom” stomach to make myself feel better, realizing that it’s just an excuse I use.
I’m insecure. I’m terrified people won’t like me when I meet them. First impressions are everything, right?
I care a little too much about what people think about me, and I’m one of the biggest introverts that you’ll ever meet, and yet, I won’t seem much like one.
I can be mean, but I can be the kindest person you’ll ever meet.
I can be selfish, immature, and rude.
But I can be loving, a saving grace, and eloquent.
I can be bad arse but I’m scared to death.
And I miss the girl I use to be. But, that girl has come a long way in life. A long, long way.
A man once told me, when I was young and naive, that I wasn’t like “all the other girls”. That I was cool. That I was like “one of the guys”. I smirked because, back then, it seemed rare. But the reality is that I was exactly like every other girl.
I was imperfect. Imperfectly beautiful.
There’s nothing quite like embracing imperfection.
There’s nothing quite like owning it.
There’s nothing quite as satisfying as knowing absolutely nothing about anything and yet determined to know anything about everything.
And this is her…this is me…
I’m confident because I’ve been less than confident.
I’m confident because I’ve been walked all over, taken advantage of, and whispered sweet nothings to, with nothing but heartache in return.
I’m confident because I know what I want in life, who I want in life, and how I want life to be. Because I’ve had the rest…the other…the settled for.
I’m confident because not a single person in this world is going to be able to tell you all the things you need to hear that you are…not until you believe them yourself.
I’m confident because I’m insecure. I’m shaking on the inside but I can’t dare let it show on the outside because, well, I know how that turns out…and it goes absolutely no where.
I’m confident…but I am exactly like every other woman out there….
I’m vulnerable, insecure, contagiously zealous, unknowingly jealous, comparative, and sassy.
But I am kind, I am quiet, and I am undoubtedly in love with the only Being in the entire universe who knows the depths of my heart, the good and the ugly, and what my confidence really is—Jesus.
If not for Him, and knowing my worth within His hands of warmth and love, I’d wear my insecurities on my sleeve, and my heart would certainly be one of stone.
I’m a hard worker, and I don’t complain about it. You don’t get anywhere in life by complaining about your chores, your aches, your drama, or your reluctance. I’ve learned that the hard way . . . I’ve learned it early in life.
This woman you think I am…she scares me. This is so true.
The confident woman that I actually am?…she wants to love you, laugh with you, be goofy with you.
She wants the fun and chaos, but she wants the depth of meaningful conversations.
She hates small talk and no, it doesn’t mean she knows more than you—it simply means she feels deeply, thinks widely, and her horizons are limitless.
This woman, she is confident. But never, ever, forget that she is exactly like you. When you see other women like her, don’t fight her. Relate to her. Love on her. Be proud of her.
She’s just a woman trying to make it in a sea of people, with little hands that tug on her shirt, dirt under her fingernails, and the world, literally, at her fingertips. Sometimes she just shows less of her insecurities and imperfections because she knows that if she shows it, then she’ll believe it.
She intimidates me…she intimidates you…and it’s only because we wish we were exactly like her…the thought of her.
The reality, however, is that we are exactly her…at exactly the right time…in exactly the right space. And the rest of the time, when we’re a mess of runny mascara, broken hearts, lost battles, and spilled sippy cup chaos…in the middle of imperfection… Well, that’s where my sweet Jesus takes the front seat, and whispers softly, “you are the daughter of a King…you are imperfectly beautiful”
Embrace it, sweet girl. And next time, when you see her—that friend, that co-worker, that blogger—don’t judge her….smile at her. Because after the confidence, she’s a puddle of mush just waiting for the next saving grace to scoop her up and love her to pieces. She’s waiting for the reminder that she’s just like everyone else…she’s exactly like you…and you are exactly like her.
Womanhood is tricky, but I promise, womanhood takes a village . . .
