Things society never taught us about the importance of confidence

Not many people know this, but I was a super shy kid. I was small and quiet, especially in public and among people I didn’t know. I could be high-pitched, chatty, and naughty around my family and close family friends, but I read a lot and avoided most people. I was a good creative writer, probably because I read so much, and my parents always thought I’d be a writer or a teacher. I did well at school – picking things up quickly, remembering rote learning well, and being great with spelling, punctuation, and grammar. I was part of accelerated groups from my very early years, given the opportunity to tackle activities like problem-solving with other advanced students, and ending up in advanced classes from Year 4. But the social side of school was much less successful. I always had two or three friends (usually people who approached me), and I could always put my hand up in class to answer questions. But I was shy and reserved, not confident to talk in groups, initiate conversations, or broaden my social circle. 

One of my primary school teachers got me into public speaking to try to boost my confidence. I took to it like a duck in water – learning the methods to structure, pace, project. And I did really well – I did public speaking competitions, debating, and mock trial all through primary school and high school, sometimes making it through rounds into competitions (though I never won any). But it didn’t really help my social confidence. Why? Because I treated public speaking like any other academic endeavour: learn the rules, apply the formula, succeed, and achieve. It didn’t matter if it was primary school, high school, or uni – I did the same thing every time. I was like a chameleon who could switch on different personas as it suited me, then take those masks off and go back to my little introverted self. For this reason, I wasn’t very good at speaking publicly on the fly or impromptu. My speeches were always drafted out, converted to palm cards, and memorised by heart. I was an actor playing a part and as long as I said my lines perfectly and made eye contact every so often with someone in the audience, no one noticed that this wasn’t a natural skill. 

In high school, most of my friends hadn’t been very available to do things socially after school or on the weekends due to their conservative families. My older sisters had grown up and either left school or moved out of home, and I spent a lot of time on my own at the weekends reading and studying, going for walks, or doing crafts. When I got my first job at 14, I’d hoped I’d make some new fun friends that I could hang with at the weekends, but that never really happened. I wasn’t allowed to stay home alone until the age of 15 or 16, so I’d hang out with my parents and their middle-aged friends and colleagues at markets, plays, lunches, charity nights, and dinner parties.

In Year 11, I became best friends with a girl who lived up the road from me and we did lots together – birthdays, sunrise breakfasts on the beach, and even wrote a stage musical called Aladdin in the Big City, which was a parody adaptation of the original Aladdin story set to the music of Bryan Adams. We played soccer on a local team, went to comedy nights at bars (chaperoned, obviously), and once we hit 18, we went out clubbing. It was nice to be friends with someone who had the freedom, money, and a home near enough by to actually hang out with and have fun. We drifted apart the following year and I eventually befriended some popular girls, though by this time when I finally started going to parties, I just felt bored and like I’d outgrown high school and the people there.

When it came time to start uni, I was sick of being smart but lonely. I decided I wanted a change. I wanted to know more people and have a wider circle, and maybe even meet a guy and have a boyfriend. So, I decided to try to be more social. I joined several clubs and societies, including Media, Drama, Comedy, and French. In lectures and tutorials, I pushed myself to talk to the person next to me. I met people on campus at random events that I saw were on and just went to. It always felt hard and it always felt awkward. But there was some magic helping me along the way and some of the people I met by chance in that very first year of uni became my best friends who I’m still friends with today. I wasn’t particularly cool, I wasn’t particularly popular, and group settings still made me uneasy, but through sheer grit and willpower I made small talk and attended social events.

In group work, I’d often end up the leader or my idea would be chosen for the assignment. People knew I was smart and picked up new skills easily, and that I was always happy to share and help, so people asked for my advice a lot. In the year of the 21sts (IYKYKYK), I went to several parties and had my own, too. I would go clubbing at the weekends with friends and head to house parties of friends near the uni. And in the last years of uni, with my parents overseas, I held dinner parties at our family home. Twenty people would rock up with drinks and snacks in a theme of a particular country or region (Scandinavia, Indonesia, Mexico), and I would cook mains and desserts for the entire group. There’d be people seated across two dinner tables and a lounge suite. At the Mexican party, I made a pig-shaped piñata  that had so many layers we had to take it to the front lawn to smash. These nights were tame, relaxed, easy, and I loved playing hostess in a well-stocked kitchen.

As we neared the end of uni, my best friend in Media and Communications (MECO) organised a MECO Formal – kind of like a high school prom but for the end of uni. Part of the night was the MECO Awards, and I submitted my votes along with everyone else. Just like there’s a Prom King & Queen, there was a MECO King & Queen. And guess who was voted MECO Queen… it was me!

When my friend said my name, I was astonished and shocked. Why me? I wasn’t cool. I wasn’t popular. But everyone knew me and liked me and trusted me, and in that moment I realised that through sheer determination of a decision I made four years earlier, I’d not only got my wish to make more friends and be more social, but I’d also undone a lifetime of shyness and introversion. I had blossomed into a social butterfly and best of all – I had done it by being me, staying true to myself, to my interests, and my ways: by helping people, feeding people, having care for people, and doing things I thought were fun. I studied and got good grades at the same time. I didn’t sacrifice my academic success for social success, but it was like a whole new part of my life had opened up simply because, instead of someone else pushing me to do it, I had made the decision to change.

Being voted MECO Queen was one of the greatest moments of my life. I wore the silk sash, balanced the fluffy crown on my curls, and hugged the floral bouquet with pride. I knew I’d never be able to go back to being that shy girl from my childhood because I’d finally given myself permission to show up and shine in the world.

Because that’s what society never tells us about confidence. Confidence is a choice.

Whether in your personal life or your professional life, we always have the chance to choose confidence. 

And that's the chance I'm offering in my new and improved Reimagine You program. The chance to choose confidence and certainty in your career, and to give yourself the permission to show up and shine and carve your own path no matter what change comes your way. 

It’s about reimagining who you are, what you’re here to do, and what you truly bring to the world. Because when you transform your inner world, the outer world races to meet you at your dreams.

I'd love for you to join me on my Reimagine You program and spend 4 weeks tapping into your inner strengths of self-belief, self-trust and self-worth. The invitation period ends Tuesday 23 September 8.00pm AEST (Sydney time) so if you're ready to transform your inner world of career confidence, join us.

>> Join the Reimagine You program here before the deadline tonight

Lata xx