Not long ago, I opened my back door to the joyful sounds of children giggling and playing in the yard next door.
“MOM! Can I go join my friends? QUICK! Where are my shoes?” my six-year-old son, Noah, exclaimed, practically tripping over his words.
“Sure, sweetheart, your shoes are where you left them,” I replied calmly.
“But MOM! I can’t find them!” he cried out in a panic. “Can you help me find my shoes?!?! HURRY! They’re waiting for me. MY FRIENDS NEED ME!”
As a reminder, his friends were not actively waiting for him. They were happily enjoying their playtime, blissfully unaware of his absence. Sure, they would welcome him with open arms when he arrived, but they were perfectly content on their own.
In Noah’s mind, however, he was an essential part of their fun, convinced that they were eagerly anticipating his arrival. His confidence was palpable—he believed wholeheartedly that he belonged in their little group and that his mere presence made a difference.
After a few moments of searching, we found his shoes and he dashed outside. Watching him skip across the yard brought a heartwarming sense of joy. His every move radiated confidence and pure delight. As a mother, I felt immense happiness witnessing his joy and gratefulness for his neighborly friends, especially since most of them were a few years older and so kind to him.
Yet, beneath the wave of maternal pride, I found myself grappling with unexpected feelings: Envy and Awe.
I envied his unwavering confidence and self-assurance. I was in awe of his certainty that he was wanted, accepted, and belonged. If I’m honest, I don’t share the same level of confidence as he does at six years old—I wish I did. I often find myself questioning my own acceptance and place in the world, longing for that same conviction.
As a child, I was naturally more reserved than Noah, but I still felt a sense of security and belonging. However, as I grew into adolescence, that innocent confidence began to dissolve, replaced by insecurities. I started to question my worth, comparing myself to others: Am I attractive enough? Smart enough? Popular enough? Liked enough? Loved enough?
Do we ever truly outgrow that self-consciousness from our teenage years? Do we ever feel completely secure in who we are? Do we stop hiding our vulnerabilities behind masks and façades? During college, I often relied on parties and alcohol to feel accepted, creating a persona that masked my true self. In my twenties, I used makeup and trendy clothes to cover up my imperfections, trying to project confidence.
Even today, despite maturing, I still wrestle with insecurities that manifest in unhealthy ways. I find myself comparing my life to curated social media feeds, obsessing over likes and comments, seeking validation through superficial measures like job titles and polished photographs.
But I wonder: Is that confident, carefree child still nestled within me, hidden beneath layers of doubt and fear? When I listen closely, I can almost hear her quietly reassuring me, “It’s okay, you can stop hiding now. You are wonderful just as you are.”
Perhaps our role as parents is to help our children nurture that genuine confidence throughout their lives, to remind them of their worth, and to create a safe space where they feel they belong.
As adults, our challenge lies in rediscovering that sense of self-worth from our childhood while also acknowledging that everyone battles their own insecurities. We all sometimes feel like awkward teenagers, yearning for acceptance despite our differences.
Maybe our goal—both as parents and individuals—is to shed our masks, embrace our vulnerabilities, and hold our children’s hands as we joyfully skip toward the endless possibilities that await us.
(But then again, perhaps you never feel like an insecure teenager grappling with acne and frizzy hair. In that case, I’m right there with you, exuding calm confidence!)
For more insights on parenting and to explore related topics, check out our other posts, such as this one on home insemination.
Summary
This article reflects on the unwavering confidence of children through the lens of a parent’s experience. It contrasts the innocent self-assuredness of youth with the insecurities that often accumulate in adulthood. The author reflects on the importance of nurturing confidence in children while simultaneously acknowledging the challenges adults face in reclaiming that sense of worth. The goal is to foster an environment where both parents and children can embrace their vulnerabilities and find belonging.