This Is How (7 page)

All of which seems like kind of mushy advice. But then maybe confidence is a little mushy because, what is it?

How can you really feel like you don’t have enough of it unless you really know exactly what it is?

All right, let’s start with what it’s not.

Confidence is
not
a substance.

It’s not like high-density lipoproteins. You can’t go to your primary care physician and ask her to run some blood work and check your confidence level because you think it might be low.

Most people would probably say that confidence is a human quality, like compassion or generosity. If this is true, we should be able to describe the feeling, the
sensation
of confidence. There are many ways to describe how compassion feels; it can be an ache of kinship, as one example. Generosity feels something like gratitude and plea sure blended together.

Many people would probably describe confidence, then, like this: “It’s just not worrying about whether or not I’ll do a good job because I know I will, because I know what I’m talking about.”

Or, “It’s not being insecure about my abilities. It’s knowing what I’m really good at.”

But these descriptions actually describe something else.

They describe
competence
.

It is through competence that we feel “not insecure about my abilities.” Competence is knowing what you’re doing and doing it well.

Confidence isn’t competence.

You can know exactly what you’re doing and do it exceedingly well, but other people watching you might conclude, for any number of reasons, that you don’t look like you know what you’re doing at all.

I’ve known people who were extremely accomplished at something yet nearly paralyzed by a preoccupation with what other people might be thinking of them and how they were being judged. When you’re worrying about what people might be thinking, you’re distracted. Other people could look at you and see a worried, distracted person, not a confident person.

If confidence isn’t competence or a personality feature like compassion, and it’s not a substance we can raise or lower by eating more blood oranges, what the hell
is
it? And whatever it is, how can you get more of it
immediately
because now that it’s mysterious you need it even more than you did before you thought about it?

The truth about confidence is one of life’s wonders because even a lazy person can succeed in this single area: if you want to be more confident, you do not need to add anything more to your personality or your skill level.

In fact, you already have
too much of something
.

Because confidence is not the presence of anything at all. Confidence is a reduction of your own interest in whether others are thinking about you and if so, what they’re thinking.

Put another way, to be more confident you need to give a whole lot less of a shit about what other people think of you.

Confidence is not something you feel or possess; it’s something others use to describe what they see when they look at you.

The experience others call confidence
you
experience as being at ease, fully yourself, and not self-conscious but rather task conscious.

When you are making a presentation in front of a large assembly of your coworkers or trying to come across well in a job interview, you would naturally want to feel confident in these situations. But trying to feel confident will actually make you anxious. Because you will never experience one instant of confidence in your lifetime.

Instead of even thinking about confidence, what you need to do is focus on exactly what’s happening in the instant. Not even the whole moment; the instant at hand.

Only when you are not mentally elsewhere can you be present. And when you are present, you’re able to think faster and more creatively and make decisions on the spot. And of course you can do all of these things because human beings have done this for tens of thousands of years. You are hardwired to think, change gears in a heartbeat, come to a decision on the spur of the moment: fight or flight.

By being focused on the task before you—whether it’s a question being asked of you in a job interview or a point you want to make to the audience—your mind has a safe harbor. As long as you pay attention only to what is happening right here, right this instant, you will be more fully yourself.

By being focused on the task at hand, you are not focused
on the people around you or their thoughts and opinions. So you don’t even have to try to give less of a shit about what people are thinking: this will happen automatically. It’s a by-product of focus.

Here’s where we have to keep digging all the sand out of the way so we do not lose sight of the truth for one instant: being focused does not mean avoiding eye contact or not making a joke. Being focused means spending time with what you are given as if you were alone or with a best friend.

If you’re focused on what’s before you but avoiding meeting the eyes of those around you, this is not a fully truthful act.

Being focused on what’s happening in the instant during a job interview doesn’t mean dryly answering the question, concentrating hard, and looking off into space. That is the behavior of avoidance. It signals anxiety over being judged. It’s a lack of focus.

You can’t get lost if you just remember to deal only with what is before you and happening right now.

If you are at ease and comfortable—whether or not you’re good at what you’re doing—those looking at you will see confidence.

Even painfully shy and awkward people are not painfully shy or awkward when they are alone.

The way to access this natural, comfortable alone-self when you are with others is by choosing to forbid yourself to wonder what “they” are thinking. Instead, force yourself to exist in the instant, then take it—and give it—as it comes.

If that sounds terrifying to you, you just cheated.

Forbid yourself to wonder what “they” are thinking.

When I was entering adolescence, I was paralyzed by thoughts of how other people were judging me. I was desperately polite. I held doors for everybody and if someone stepped on my foot, I was the one who apologized.

In conversation, I couldn’t even form my own opinion because if I admitted liking something the person I was speaking with disliked, I would have felt a profound rejection, like I was left behind.

I could feel this terrible, crushing self-consciousness and do-good best behavior limiting me by the hour. In a moment of mad, brazen inspiration I thought of something I could do that—maybe—would help.

My worst fear, the single thing that made me sick to my stomach to consider was being seen by somebody—especially somebody poised—as rude and ill-mannered. But this fear went well beyond the desire to have fine manners. I had come to feel it was rude to not always accept the blame for everything and to agree with others, automatically.

I simply had to make my worst fears come true. I didn’t know how else to stop caring so much about what other people thought of me. If they even thought of me.

I had a very bad idea.

I climbed onto my bike and rode into the next town where there was a corner store I had seen though never been inside.

I would go inside now. But I knew, I would never come back.

As I’d hoped, there were several other customers. I pretended to look at magazines while waiting for a line to form and soon one did. I lost my nerve several times. Finally, though,
I grabbed a pack of gum and cut directly into the line, ahead of two women.

At first they didn’t say anything but then one of them politely told me there was actually a line and they were standing in it.

I said something incredibly offensive and stayed right where I was.

Lingering after an act of rudeness terrorism had been my whole point. To stand there and feel their anger and disgust boring into the back of my head. To imagine how the swirl of curls would have infuriated them because when you hate somebody and you’re looking at the back of their head, nothing has ever filled you with more contempt than the way their hair brushes the collar of their shirt.

I kind of cheated when I got to the register. The clerk had been oblivious to my crime and I slapped the exact change onto the worn old counter and left before he rang me up.

Looking back? There were probably other, better ways to do this that didn’t involve being rude to other people. I’m not proud of this behavior and wish I’d taken the time to think of a different execution of the same concept.

That said, the effect was profound for me.

It became easier to be less involved with other people and more involved in whatever was happening in the moment.

I practiced.

When somebody talked about a movie or song and I felt differently, I started to express this. It was about the song or the movie and how they felt and how I felt. That was all, that was the boundary I established. I did not go beyond this boundary and into the impossible, anxious territory of, “They must think I’m uncool for liking that movie.”

The five or six years that followed removed what vestiges of self-consciousness remained. I had felt mortified, humiliated, and degraded in so many different ways and combinations by the time I was nineteen and working in my first job in advertising, the “risk” involved in standing up before people and talking about my idea was laughably negligible.

To allow yourself to be “yourself” when you are with others, you don’t need to have years of therapy-polished love for yourself—merely tolerance.

When you’re on a date or in a meeting or wherever it is you need to be seen as confident or wish you had “confidence,” this is the tool to pull from the box and use: be where you are when you’re there, doing whatever it is you’re doing.

It sounds like advice made out of mist, I know. Just try it in the most literal way possible.

You’ve got to test drive this concept to really grasp the significance of it. Go walk outside and head to the dog park even if you don’t have a dog, or drive over to that creepy Christmas store at the mall that’s open all year and lose yourself, misplace yourself, in the moment.

Engage with someone and focus on them, not on your own self, not wondering how focused you are or how much time has passed.

If the lady at the makeup counter offers to spray you with perfume, extend your wrist. Then follow, word by word, instant by instant, the natural path of the moment.

See where it goes.

As long as you don’t once look inward but remain focused entirely on the task, you won’t lack “confidence.”

Until the end, when the perfume spritzer corners you in the parking lot with her box cutter and says she’s going to fuck over your face for taking up an hour of her time without buying anything.

But it will be worth it. Because if you are focused on the moment—and this usually means somebody else or some physical activity—you won’t be looking inward, judging, quivering at the judgment you have pronounced.

And appearing like a nervous mess without bones or confidence.

Also: this is what will stop you from looking at the wall behind the person you’re supposed to be charming during a job interview, FYI.

Think out loud, but don’t babble. Babbling is a form of insecurity and anxiety. It’s an intolerance for space, silence. Never be afraid of space or silence. They are merely the cool side of the pillow during interaction: a refreshing mental nap.

Delay is deadly. Delay is not a natural pause in conversation. Delay is paralysis, the mind sucking itself out of the moment and grabbing its hand mirror and going, HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT HOW STUPID I LOOK.

Delay is a gun pointed at the temple of confidence. Trying to decide whether or not to say something looks terrible. It looks worse than anything you could possibly say. Even the F-bomb is preferable in a presentation to potential clients than stumbling over yourself and muttering and looking down at the floor like you lost several diamonds.

Saying just the right thing after a considerable, awkward pause is far less effective than saying the wrong thing with perfect timing, I’m telling you.

Worrying about what you’ll say means you’re out of the moment.

Struggling to find the words to express yourself means you’ve fallen out of the moment.

You must hang onto the straps of the bucking moment as if your sanity and life depended on it—because actually they do.

Unscripted, unedited, and wholly authentic people are almost universally admired, especially if they have flaws, are not afraid to make live, red-blooded mistakes, and rather than
trying
are busy simply
being.

Which is something you should consider hiring a tattoo artist to script across the palm of your hand: Be, Don’t Try.

“Oh my God, I can’t do that. I would totally mess up.”

You better pray to the corn god that you do. Messing up is how you tell other people, “It’s okay to like me, because I’m just like you.” Everybody feels a bit like a dented can inside. Even the slickest, most polished person you can think of is more aware of their shortcomings and flaws than their talents and gifts.