Thoughts on Confidence, 11/23/2013

I'm trying to wrap my brain around something that I can't really come to terms with. How is it that, in the span of a few days, I can be told from strangers that I should work in radio, asked out randomly by members of the fairer sex, and even be teased about for an amateur model photo shoot... but still can't cling to one iota self worth?

Long-winded questions aside, I just don't understand. Sure sure, we've certainly been through this familiar song and dance a few times before, but it just doesn't seem to resolve and go away.

Thinking through the various steps of why I think this and feel this way, still brings no edible knowledge fruit. Usually when one rationalized his/her fears, those fears vanish or subdue themselves in the face of plain and simple logic. I know the answer to 2 + 2 is indeed 4, but the math still doesn't add up. Does this make any sense?

There is no reason I should be this way. There is no reason I should be plagued by this constant wheezing wind of emotional turmoil and the distilled fear of dying with lack of an interesting story to pass on, let alone anyone that wants to hear it.

Upon reading these poorly crafted strings of words back, all I can seem to tell myself...

Suck it up you chump.

What is self-esteem anyway? Do the charismatic individuals you see walking in the world amongst you really even have charisma? I'm told constantly that I'm a very outgoing and charismatic person; that I have the means to be a politician or motivational speaker, but I can't for the life of me agree with any of this.

The truth? I'm just faking it. Constantly fabricating this wall around the nervous scared boy that I really feel I am. The whole conversation puts the idea of confidence to scrutiny. Is it courage to be completely scared out of your wits, but jump into the lion's den anyway? Should it be blamed on depression? Should it be blamed on anything at all?

I feel like I'm forcing myself to find these answers out on my own. For what good, I do not know. I desperately crave social interaction, social support, and the like. I just don't feel it's really solving anything to push these problems on someone else to help solve. Will I come out of the pit wearing a new lion fur loincloth or will I spend the last minutes of this crazy ride in the various damp confines of the pride's collective stomachs?

Time will tell I guess.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

I don't give my consent, yet still judge myself lacking. Logic be damned.