Being a Self-doubting Prodigy
All my life I’ve pursued what people say I’m good at.
All my life I’ve pursued what people say I’m good at.
It’s what led me to practise the piano for 7 years. It’s what made me study Spanish and Creative Writing in my undergrad. It’s what brought me to start my own cookie business. It’s what influenced me to have an Instagram presence that advocates mental health and expresses vulnerability. It’s what persuaded me to write this article so you can read about the reality I live.
These all sound like successes, and I guess they are. Keywords: I guess. But they all started because someone told me I was good at something.
After taking a Spanish final exam, a professor expressed her hope to see me in the department’s upper-level classes. She said I excelled in the content and she could see I was turning into a more confident Spanish speaker. I could see the pride in her eyes — of having me in her class and watching me grow.
So I made Spanish my major. To be fair, I performed really well in my classes. I got high marks and enjoyed reading and analysing Spanish and Latin American literature.
Same thing for my cookie business. After a summer of experimenting and curating the Best Chocolate Chip Cookies in The World, my roommates and friends said I should turn it into a business. They beamed with admiration for the source of happiness they held in their hand.
“Dude! You should go for it! Your desserts and cookies are amazing!” they all said.
Should I really? Is it really that good? That special? What if I fail?
I stayed in this limbo for a couple of weeks. I brought it up in conversations with friends, initially saying it was ridiculous. To my surprise, all of them were in favour of the idea. A friend who studies Economics told me he’d invest in the business down the road. I was shocked; this guy wouldn’t throw his money at anything just for the sake of it. “I’m not saying that just because you’re my friend,” he added. “You actually have what it takes to be successful.”
After all the feedback I received, it led me to one big question. What was this feeling that stopped me from starting my own business?
The same feeling that prohibits people from wanting to experience love,
or choosing to get out of a relationship,
or following their own calling
(amongst many other experiences):
fear.
Specifically, of failure.
I finally brought it up with my parents. The video call was laggy but it didn’t hide the hesitation in my father’s face. He knows I’m good at baking and have talent in the kitchen. He’s always been amazed by the flavours and textures I bring together in harmony. However, I could tell he wasn’t so sure if I could start a business from scratch. He’s always been protective of me and my future; he wants me to succeed — which to him equates to earning a high, stable income. But as I explained my business idea and where it could lead me, he also saw a dazzling passion.
Before the call ended, I asked, “So, dad… do you believe in me?”
He laughed and replied, “Fuck you! Of course I believe in you!”
Tears fell and my smile grew. I let out a chuckle followed by a deep sigh. Alright, let’s take a leap of faith, Tanya.
So I did.
It’s been 2 and a half months since I launched my business. I don’t have a stable income, and to be honest, I’m not really sure if this is what I’m “supposed” to be doing.
After writing “I Don’t Know What I’m Doing With My Life”, I realised I struggle, on a daily basis, with self-doubt. It sounds funny coming out of my mouth because I’m very self-aware. However, for the longest time, I thought it was part of my routine. Something I had to face every day.
Alright, it’s 10 am. Time to doubt everything you’re doing and this venture you’re investing so much time and energy on. Yet here you are, still not making enough money to actually pay yourself. Hah. What a joke.
At least 15 minutes of my day is spent questioning and talking myself out of a downward spiral. Some days it’s easier. Other days it takes more energy. It takes more focus to tackle my to-do list. It leads me to ask a roommate to remind me that I’m doing enough and that I am enough. This helps me get out of my head. A person’s voice that is not my own helps me believe the truth with more ease.
It seems as though this cycle of self-doubt stops me from reaching my highest potential; it gets in the way between where I am and where I want to be. I want to be a successful entrepreneur. I want to see a consistent increase in sales. I want show up as my best self for all of my endeavours.
But how can I when I constantly need other people to feed me the truth? How can I when I doubt every business decision and investment of my time? How can I when I’m the last person who believes in myself?
I digress.
A couple of nights ago I was reading The Fifth Agreement. I found myself stuck on page 88. I couldn’t pass the confronting question on the bottom of the page. My eyes read the words again and again — trying to process this conundrum.
“If you can believe in your limitations, then why not believe in the beauty and power of life that’s flowing through you?”
The slap stung my face.
I’ve put so much energy into believing my limitations that I didn’t even think about believing in my current power. Why did this never occur to me?
I finally let my eyes read on.
“And if you challenge your beliefs just by asking yourself if what you believe is true, you may find out something very interesting: All your life you tried to be good enough for somebody else, and you left yourself last. You sacrificed your personal freedom to live according to somebody else’s point of view. You tried to be good enough for your mother, your father, your teachers, your beloved, your children, your religion, and society. After trying for so many years you try to be good enough for yourself and you find out that you’re not good enough for yourself.
Why not put yourself first, maybe for the first time in your life?”
It finally sunk in: I have this deeply ingrained belief that there’s no space for doubt when the truth (or lie) comes from another’s mouth.
I’ve been conditioned that the narrative I live is determined by the validity I receive from bodies that weren’t my own. From the ones closest to me to the ones I hardly know, I’ve established a belief system that my autonomy came from “choosing” to do the thing people say I’m good at.
They think I’m good at this, so I must be good at it. They think I have potential so I must have potential.
But when it came time to ask myself if I’m good at being an entrepreneur, or I’m good at writing, or I’m good at holding space for others to be vulnerable, the answer was Hmmm… I still have a lot to learn… but I’m alright, I guess?
It’s easier to believe I’m not good [enough] at something — especially when I’m exploring a foreign terrain. My default has always been a form of self-doubt.
I had enough of it. So instead of accepting it as my natural response, I questioned it.
Why are you here?
“Because I am the truth.”
No, you’re not. Tell me, why are you here?
“Because I think you’re not good enough.”
Why do you think that?
“Because you aren’t successful.”
Who says so?
“Society.”
Why would society think so?
Because you’re nowhere near successful as all the other people who are making lots of money.
Okay, so if society thinks I’m not good enough and that I’m not successful, why are you in my head doing its job?
“Because you need to be reminded you’re not good enough.”
But you haven’t answered my question — why are you here? What purpose do you serve? What do you gain from stopping me from achieving my highest potential?
“BECAUSE I WANT TO PROTECT YOU! I WANT TO KEEP YOU SAFE. I WANT TO HOLD YOU CLOSE AND I DON’T WANT SOCIETY TO EAT YOU UP AND SPIT YOU OUT — ”
*I walk closer and hug it, tightly.*
My self-doubt is there for a reason: to protect me. It’s like an overprotective parent who doesn’t want their child to be exposed to all the unpleasant sides of the world. As a result, the child is sheltered.
After having this vulnerable and eye-opening experience with myself, it made me reframe the initial reaction I have when any negative, self-doubting thought arises.
Instead of trying to fight it or reason with it, I need to give space for it to express itself before giving reassurance that I’m going to be just fine — that making an impact and living a not-so-conventional life means doing something that hasn’t been done before. Much like the overprotective parent analogy, I need to acknowledge that fear exists to keep me safe. Safe from pain, heartbreak, failure, loneliness.
But at the expense of what?
Success? Freedom? Self-reliance? Independence? True happiness? Wisdom?
Perhaps all. Perhaps some. Perhaps none. Only life and my path will tell.
And there’s only one way to find out.
