This Week’s Say

For at least the first seven years of my life, I was completely reserved, quiet and placid. How darling? Shy was the word my mother would use to describe me when my face grew flushed after simply being asked by anyone what I wanted to be when I grew up. 

When our family grew, and I became the eldest daughter of five children, and soon there was a lot more noise to cut through in my home life. More brothers to act as the third parent towards (both voluntarily and involuntarily), yet at school and in public, I remained the same angelic little Lottie, peering from the confines of my shell.

So much so, in grade three, my teacher gave me an achievement award at assembly, where I was awarded on the grounds of my dedication to studying and slowly emerging from my shell. She so kindly described me as “ once as quiet as a mouse, Charlotte is now, well, maybe turning into more of a loud rat”. I am paraphrasing, but I am not lying. I blushed all the way to the front of the room.

However, as an adult, I am described as an extrovert. This description comes most naturally to those who are new characters in my life. Those who have known the most recent version of me, unaware of the existence of the quiet mouse that was. I take it as a compliment, because my self-confidence has always been the subject of my main self-improvement project.

Throughout high school, I had this idea that extrovert = loudest in the room which was probably a result of the popular, confident kids using the classroom as their stage, which I now understand isn’t true. Extrovertedness doesn’t mean the loudest in the room; it is one’s tendency to approach unknown situations with minimal nerves, not only maximum confidence.  

Extrovertedness is on a spectrum, like most things, and I have enough retrospect to realise that I was judgmental towards those who were at the opposite end of the spectrum. I can now admit that I was envious of their confidence. I had confidence, but chose to keep it on the inside, reserved for the moments with close friends and family - those who I deemed worthy of my true self. My “members-only” personality, which I was so proud of, was a prize I awarded those who made me feel comfortable.

It is necessary to protect our peace; giving ourselves up to every person we meet is not sustainable. But I find more comfort now in people knowing more about me, quirks and all, rather than believing it was more embarrassing to be myself.

I see it in my friends, too, not just in their confidence levels, but in their personalities at large. They seem different to the 15-year-old version of them I learned to love in math class. They seem to be the most authentic version of themselves ever, even if it looks different to what we used to know. I can only be proud of them for that.

I hope that they, and others in my life, can recognise that my main change has been in my confidence and not because of my ego or how I view myself, but more so in my exhaustion of boxing people out. I hope you can all recognise that our changes and authentic selves look different, and I don’t measure it purely with confidence.