You would think at my advanced age I would be long past such pointless anxiety, but no. Every social occasion for me is an opportunity for varying degrees of self-loathing. I talked too much, I talked too little. I was too loud, I was too aloof. I asked too many questions, I didn’t ask enough questions. I acted like a dope, I acted like a smarty pants. It’s always something. After any social event, I wish desperately for a do-over, during which I would be an entirely different person. I promise. Just give me another chance.
It's a form of narcissism, this delusion that all eyes are on me. Rationally, I know most people are busy enjoying themselves or worrying about their own presentation or wondering when they can go home or thinking about what to make for dinner tomorrow. Everyone has a million better things to do than scrutinize my behavior. I’m incidental to the movies in which they star, their own lives, as I should be.
But irrationally, when I’m back home, my head is full of invented conversations about the cloddish and irritating embarrassment that is Sophie.
Geeze, I sound like a teenager. When I yearn to stay forever young, this is not what I have in mind.
What is the secret to self-confidence, please?
3 comments:
Not giving a fuck about other people's perception of you. Only caring about your perception of you.
But but but...
My perception of me is not so swell.
Letting go. That's the secret, Sophia.
And if you do dwell on it all adhere to the "five second rule." You know, the same principle that applies to food that falls on the floor?
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