Recently, I have been listening to the audiobook Capable by Sissy Goff and David Thomas. The premise of the book is about raising capable kids who are confident and resilient, regardless of what life throws their way. This is an especially relevant topic for me since my kids have been navigating major health issues this year, which has caused me to hyper-focus on their resilience. I have a tendency to do this, deep dive into applicable books when I am navigating stressful experiences. I’m not sure reading books during times of crisis is always helpful, but it does give me something more beneficial to do than doom scrolling on the internet.. 

A topic the book discussed was the increase in mental health issues in young girls, to which Goff shared that “Between the ages of 8 and 14, girls’ confidence levels fall by 30 percent.” This statistic was staggering and caused me to think about my own 8 year old daughter and the unique, beautiful confidence she currently carries. I wish there was a way to bottle it up and pour it back into her when future experiences challenge her self-esteem. Although the book focused on the topic of confidence in kids, I couldn’t help to think about how issues of confidence and self-esteem also impact adults. As I considered how to incorporate recommendations to help my own kids fight off insecurity, I was reminded of my own recent moments of self-doubt. In contrast, my daughter has had two recent moments of self-assurance that have brought me so much joy and some much needed reminders of how I continue to learn so much from her. 

First, an example of celebrated confidence. My daughter’s dance team won 2nd place at one of their local dance competitions. She received a lovely, bright red 2nd place medal. She was elated. She wore the medal the rest of the day, to the ice cream shop and the grocery store, in the car, while playing in the front yard, eating supper, and getting ready for bed.  Only when she lay down to sleep did she carefully place her medal on the desk next to her bed. The next morning she got dressed for church and excitedly put the medal back on. I was a bit dismayed. Hadn’t we celebrated enough? Wasn’t she feeling a bit shy about it? What would other people think? I cautiously offered, “Maybe you want to leave your medal at home while we go to church?” She looked at me like I had suggested she throw it in the garbage and exclaimed, “Then how will I show our pastor!?” To which I did not have a good answer, so she wore it to church. Our pastor reacted exactly how she hoped he would, with words of excitement and encouragement and an enthusiastic high five. Then he turned to me and said, “I just love how kids aren’t afraid to celebrate!” What a good reminder. On the way home we saw one of her dance teammates out for a walk with her parents. We waved as we passed by, their daughter walking between her parents, a large red 2nd place medal hanging around her neck. Kids are wonderful. 

In direct contrast to my daughter’s enthusiastic confidence, a week later I found myself struggling to extend even a small bit of grace over my own lack of self-esteem.  The experience occurred at a quarterly community event I look forward to attending, and one I had high hopes would fill my bucket. It’s a morning event and arriving on time is always a little tricky since I have to first drop my kids off at school first, but due to their school’s schedule, I can only do this ten minutes prior to the start of the program. Although I did my best, even making my kids walk from the parking lot of the school to avoid the chaos of the drop off line, I was still two minutes late to the event. On my way in, I quietly picked up my free coffee and donut and tried to sneak into the room. Much to my dismay, the room was completely full. I stood awkwardly in the doorway, frantically scanning the tables before I saw the only empty chair in the room, which was not at a table like every other chair but instead up against a wall by itself. As I walked toward the chair, I stumbled and dropped my donut.  It rolled along the floor, leaving a trail of sprinkles in its path. Embarrassed, I rushed forward trying to pick it up but as I bent over I spilled my coffee. I gathered all of the things, took my seat along the wall and tried to tune into what the speaker was saying. Instead, as I attempted to calm down, my racing mind wandered as I observed the crowd. The room was full of stilettos, blazers, and long, shiny hair. Everyone appeared so professional, so put together. I was wearing my typical Friday outfit of tennies, blue jeans, and a sweatshirt. I could feel myself trying to shrink. To shrink from the embarrassment of my entrance, from my awkward chair against the wall, from my tennis shoes and jeans. Despite decades of intentionally building confidence and practicing self-compassion, I instantly fell back into a comparison trap. I was 14 again, feeling out of place in the school cafeteria. Why is confidence so hard to build and so easy to lose? Why do we start comparing ourselves to others and how do we make it stop? 

Back to my daughter. We have a Monday-Runday tradition where we go for a run together once a week.  In the cold North Dakota winter months, we go to the gym and run on the indoor track. During the early evening hours, the sun starts to set and the windows that line the track begin to look less like windows and more like mirrors. I was a bit disgruntled by this as there was nothing I liked about seeing my sweaty self in a mirror, huffing and puffing. Just then my daughter ran by the same mirrored windows and as she saw herself, she broke into a giant smile, ran up to the window and gave herself a high five! “You’re doing great!” she exclaimed, before happily continuing on her way. I just stared, awed by her youthful confidence and self-encouragement. 

What happens to our sense of confidence as we age? How do we go from elated giggles at seeing our reflection to a curmudgeonly grimace? As I contemplated the difference between my daughter’s reaction to seeing herself and my own, I decided I want to be done with being so hard on myself. Will I ever like running in front of a mirror? No. But, do I now run up to the mirror and give myself a high five? Also, no. However, what I started doing when I see my reflection is quietly saying to myself, “You’re doing great!” Because do you know what? I am running on a track on a Monday evening with my daughter. And, that is pretty great. 

Do you know what else is great? Engaging in life in general. It’s the little things: drinking tea in the morning, dropping the kids off at school, listening to audiobooks in the car, working with students and ensuring accessibility for their education, laughing with coworkers, treating myself to a mid-day coffee, picking up my kids from school, watching their activities, evening conversations with family, reading books before bed. It is the day-to-day moments that I sometimes take for granted that really are great and when I reflect on these moments, I realize this is where my confidence, self-compassion, and self-assurance thrive.

I realized these experiences are my own personalized reminders: Sometimes confidence looks like proudly wearing a medal, other times it looks like walking into a room wearing blue jeans. Sometimes I need to spend more time high-fiving myself for all of the things I am doing well rather than berating myself for spilling my coffee or wearing the wrong shoes. I might never again have the confidence of an 8 year old, but I can learn a lot by watching her.  And, to my daughter, please always keep being you.  

Jessica is a wife, mom, social worker, and writer.  She is co-author of the blog The Unexpected Ever Afters.

Photo Credit: Personal Photo