When your confidence wanes
They went for the throat immediately, hurling insults as if we were exotic game animals in a sporting shoot. My face started to flush and I felt the anger seeping in, and the frustration of being muted while strangers called me “stupid” and “lame” and “boring”. The other two guys got that and worse. I glowered at the regular DJs, fidgeting in my seat.
I was a contestant on an Atlanta-based radio station called “Quit Your Day Job” and I had made it through an audition of 100 people and a week of music trivia to get to this point – the final three in a race for a prize package including a car and townhouse lease for a year. The last hurdle was that they let the three of us host the show for ten minutes, and we had about an hour to plan and fill those ten minutes with whatever we wanted. We were amateurs, certainly, and we did the best we could. All of us wanted to win, badly, but we got along well, and we had fun with it.
What we didn’t know is that the regular DJs were talking over us and making fun of us as we spoke from the other room. After they came back into the booth and played it back for us, they opened up the phones for callers to comment, and the effect was brutal.
After taking several calls dripping with criticism and sarcasm, they opened up my microphone to let me speak.
“Steam is starting to come out of your ears, Kristin,” one of the DJs said, smirking. “What’s on your mind?”
I leaned into the mic and unleashed my feelings: I said that the callers didn’t really know me and didn’t have a right to criticize me or my two new friends in that manner. I told them they should be ashamed of themselves for the language they used to describe people they didn’t know. Criticize our technique, but don’t criticize us as people, I said. I sounded louder and more animated than I had all week, and when I was finished, I sat back down. The lead DJ looked at me with new respect, but told me that if I wanted to entertain a job as a DJ, I’d have to learn to take the heat.
The other DJ said on the air, “I’m proud of you, Kristin. That’s the most you have revealed about yourself all week. And check it out – the compliments are starting to come in.”
New callers were lined up to give us support and encouragement. They drowned out the negative callers, and the regular DJs joked that we must have paid some of them to call in or that they must be relatives. Their normal was the negative.
I didn’t win the contest. But I was reminded on that day: be real. Don’t worry about being unpopular; just be true. It’s a message I heard at a conference two years ago when the speaker, a woman with an amazing success story, said one of her lessons in life was, “Don’t be mild.” That’s a Texas reference in terms of heat and salsa and the Tex-Mex cooking we eat often in this area. Be spicy if you’re spicy. Be medium if you’re more medium. But don’t be mild to try to please others if your nature is to be spicy.
The second thing I learned was that I don’t want to spend my life in a toxic environment. Any job in which I’d have to learn how to take that kind of heat on a daily basis is not where I want to spend my time. Granted, as a writer, I experience some trolls and internet commenters who are less than kind. I don’t like it, but I have learned to shut them out as best as I can.
It’s more than ten years since the DJ contest, and I still struggle sometimes when I get negative feedback – but less than I used to. I confided in a group of friends recently that I still felt like a teenager when my confidence wanes. They all chimed in, “Me too!” “Me too!” and we agreed that our own insecurities get in our way. Crises of confidence seem to be pretty normal, but they are frustrating.
One friend gave me a great piece of advice. When I shared with her my lagging confidence, she said, “Well, do you want to change who you are? I like you the way you are. You have to be you.”
At 43, I know who I am, for the most part.
I’m 100% extrovert, and I talk a lot.
I tend to interrupt when I’m excited about a topic.
I am constantly on the go, and may be exhausting to anyone who has a slower pace.
I make mistakes on a regular basis.
I’m sappy and sometimes cheesy.
I may not be for everyone.
But I am me.
And the lessons I am still learning are the ones I want to pass onto my son, and to you: you are you. And you should be YOU, whether you are mild, medium, or spicy. You don’t need anyone’s approval. You don’t always have to be liked, even though that is sometimes tough to swallow. Be true to you.
Maybe this sounds familiar to you:
Sometimes I worry that my writing doesn't mean anything, or that it's trivial. And then I get a message from one person telling me that it helped them in some way. Sometimes I worry that I am not a good enough friend. And then I get a text from someone telling me they love me. Sometimes I worry that I am not a good enough mother. And then my son hugs me. I'm harder on myself than anyone else could be, as many people are.
Tell those voices in your head to be quiet and wait for the next wave of good.
My son will meet negative people, mean people, and people who are jealous or angry or hateful. I want him to know that the whole world doesn’t have to like him, but he can make a difference for the people who do, one person at a time… and for that one person, that’s all that matters. Focus on them and forgive the rest.
I’m kind of spicy. Maybe you are, too.You’re probably also kind, and thoughtful, and loving.
Forgive yourself for being imperfect.
Forgive yourself for being bent or broken on your way to wholeness.
Keep being kind, keep the faith, and keep moving forward. And surround yourself with love.
Be you.
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My favorite quote of the week on this topic, from Marc and Angel:
“Stop listening to what the world says you should want. Start listening to who you are. Truth be told, there are only a few people in this world who will stay 100% true to you, and YOU should be one of them.”