confidence

My boy is growing before my very eyes, and so quickly that I recognize it. Just before he fell asleep, he rocked forward and back and forward and stopped. With that forward and stop, he moved. And then he repeated the forward and stop: another move. Soon, he was up by my face giving his sweet wide open mouthed kisses and I wouldn’t be surprised if he begins to scoot tomorrow.

He continues to work on his skills until he builds confidence and can perform them on command. Then he builds upon them, always looking for what he can do next to continue to explore the world which fascinates him so.

Some people mistake me for a person who lacks confidence. This could not be further from the truth. I have an almost debilitating amount of self-confidence; I am so convinced that I can and should do great things, that I posses such a vast reservoir of untapped potential, I anger myself when I assess where I am and where I ought to be along my development of self. That does not mean I do not like myself: indeed I much prefer my own company to any other but a select few, and most of those are imaginary, literary, or historical. I have no desire to be anyone else. I often covet another’s situation, location, or vocation but even in terms of accomplishments I not only want the milestone, I want the work that it takes to get there. I am often misunderstood, which is no great surprise. But twice now, from among the handful of people I trust and admire, I’ve been told I lack confidence and am ugly for it. This is false; my vulnerabilities are not the brethren of insecurities, but rather are expectations betrayed. It is when I am wrong about someone that my faith is shaken; not my faith in my core self but my faith in my relational self. I believe I am deserving of respect, particularly that of those with whom I deign to share my thoughts and humors. If they instead choose to see me and subsequently treat me as a common street, I am of course angry and struggle to find them worthy of my affection or confidence.

The above may reveal me to be an arrogant narcissist, but better that then a sniveling, jealous wimp. I am so much more than you can bear, so much more than you can dare, if that is all you see in me when I deign to reveal what is behind my walls.

If you choose not to respect me, I choose to be done with you.

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