From time to time, I’m asked to present a topic of expertise to my colleagues. I am no public speaker, the mere thought of it turns my stomach, but I agree to do it anyway. Each time, nerves take over days in advance. Preparation and practicing in front of my family get me ready enough.
As it usually goes, the day of the presentation starts with a feeling of self-assurance. But as “go time” approaches, the good vibes fade and the nerves come rushing back. That’s when I inevitably end up in the ladies’ room, giving myself a quiet pep talk to calm the jitters.
Once the presentation is over, I feel energized and confident. Not because I nailed it, but because I did it. I measure success by how I got through it — usually with less nervousness than the last time — and by the fact that I showed up again. Progress over perfection.
It doesn’t take long, though, for that confidence to morph into an odd kind of guilt. A voice creeps in asking, Who do you think you are, feeling confident? I start waiting for the other shoe to drop. When that happens, I have to remind myself that I am allowed to feel good — that confidence doesn’t require an apology.
There are a few reasons my thoughts turn on me like this. One of the most interesting is the fear that confidence could be mistaken for cockiness. And if there’s anything I don’t want to be, it’s cocky.
We’ve all encountered a cocky person — someone who presents themselves in an intimidating way. For example, imagine Julie: a smart, resourceful woman who can be pleasant to be around if you’re willing to acknowledge that she is the only smart and resourceful person in the room. Anyone who threatens that title becomes a target for half-truths and quiet takedowns. Friends or foes, she doesn’t discriminate if it makes her look better. She has no shame in putting others to shame.
Julie doesn’t trust that people see her value — and more importantly, she doesn’t see it herself. She needs constant confirmation that she’s the best of the best.
When I found myself questioning my own brief moments of confidence after presenting, I decided to dig a little deeper. In an article from Psych Central, cockiness is described as building self-esteem from outward sources like financial privilege or constant praise. In other words, it relies on validation that comes from outside of oneself.
That kind of confidence is fragile. It needs comparison to survive. It often depends on making others look smaller in order to feel bigger. While it may fool some people — “Julie is so smart, and so-and-so is so dumb” — cockiness is ultimately a disguise for insecurity.
True confidence, on the other hand, is built from within and projected outward. The feeling I get after presenting comes from that internal place. No one can take it from me — unless I let them. And too often, I do.
Now that I understand the difference, I’m learning to sit with confidence when it shows up. To let it wash over me without guilt or second-guessing. And when I encounter people who try to diminish others to lift themselves up, I try to remember that behavior comes from insecurity, not strength — and to offer a little more grace.
Perfect Dysfunction 