3 min read
“Two yellow chicks on ground” – Unsplash.com
Some Helpful Context
No intro this time.
I felt like it’s necessary to bring up my transformation in the past couple of years. Back in middle school, as well as during the COVID era, I was as antisocial as you could be. I was only ever confident at talking with the closest of my friends and my closest relatives. This included my mom, dad, siblings, and uncles & aunts. Point is: these were the only people I liked talking to. Not because I liked talking, but because they didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. That was no one’s fault except my own.
Talking felt like a chore and you bet that presentations in school were basically just torture rituals. I love them now, not because work is enjoyable, but because I see it as just another mere challenge. However, it took an unbelievable amount of time and unconscious effort to get to this point.
A lot of the progress I made wasn’t through sheer will but rather just unconscious mental restructuring. This means that the level needed to get to this point wasn’t always made possible through my own conscious choices. I know that sounds complicated, but trust me, it isn’t. However it also doesn’t mean I can explain everything I did in detail because I truly don’t know either. It’s like me looking at a smeared and foggy window with large text behind it. You can visibly see it, but not clearly.
Nonetheless, I hope you can gain something from this post. Thanks for stopping by.
Confidence Can’t Be Faked
I don’t care who tells you, but you can’t fake confidence. If you’re confident, it’ll be clear to anyone speaking with you. And I don’t mean preparing and studying for an interview or exam and knowing all your stuff, no that doesn’t count. That isn’t confident but instead is context. You have context before walking through the door and talking with the interviewer. I don’t consider it an advantage among other interviewees, but rather as a requirement.
So I’ll reiterate: if you think faking confidence works, you’ll realize eventually that people can tell it’s a show. None of it is real.
Real confidence is like a plant and takes time to grow. You need to dig a spot in the dirt, plant the seed, and consistently water it or else it’ll pass away.
Fun Fact: This is actually what happened to me, but in the negative way.
Fun Fact
Back in my late elementary school phase (keep in mind this was years before COVID), I was probably at the peak of my extroverted-ness. Probably not a word, sorry.
At this point of my kid life, talking was essential for daily life. It was like food, only I wanted more of it. Making friends in elementary school was so undeniably easy, and anyone could’ve done what I did. At least I hope so. I had one primary friend group, but to tell the truth, friend groups during this time were large (like 20-50 kids) but fragile.
I wasn’t fortunate enough unlike most kids to own a cellphone (or just a phone if you prefer that) at the time. None of my friends at the time had one either. Maybe you could argue that it was because we were on the “less-fortunate” side, but that’s straying away from what I’m trying to get at. The only way to guarantee we’d talk with one another again is if we had that friend’s mom’s phone number. That wasn’t always the case. That’s when the question rises: who knows if we’d still be friends leading into middle school? After all, if they don’t go to the same middle school, their entire friendship could burn in flames.
And, for the most part, that’s what ended up happening.
After we all parted ways into middle school, the once cluster-like friend group that existed before just disappeared. Gone. Just like that.
I still had and talked to a couple friends from then years down the line, and we formed a stronger and more united friend group. But, it never reached the height that the original group once did.
So why does any of this matter? Being an extrovert when everyone around you is your friend is easy. Anyone can do it because it assumes you’re already extremely comfortable with everyone around you. However, once this switch gets flipped off, and you enter middle school where everyone has either no manners or consciousness, things do turn for the worse.
I’m not here to describe my middle school experience, and regardless, it’s irrelevant. Once COVID hit, and while simultaneously being in this environment, I became an antisocial. Or just “antisocial”.
Isolation = Fuel to the Fire
While COVID persisted, I learned from home. No reason to physically go to your districted school.
On one hand, this is great because you now have so much freedom that you don’t even know what to do with. However, it’s so much freedom that before you know it, isolation hits you like a truck. I rarely ever went outside, and only really talked to close family and a couple friends (on the regular). That was it. Although I was always on the game, and always talked to new people, that means nothing if you’re never actually seeing their faces. Hearing a voice is far different than a voice and a face simultaneously.
That’s what got me.
I forgot how to talk and have conversations with people. It probably hit me the hardest compared to anyone else to be fair. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone have it nearly as bad as me. I was unrecognizable from my elementary school counterpart. Before, I talked so fluidly and consistently that it became as regular as drinking water. Now, talking like I did then felt like a 10-step task filled with holes, long jumps, and 30-second “hold your breaths”. It was pretty bad.
It Took 3 Years To Fully Break Out
In the end, it all turned out okay. Nonetheless, it took almost a full three years before I could break free from my constraints. Although after a year I was fine, and learned how to talk regularly again, I wasn’t at my maximum height. In other words, I was never at the height that I once was at in elementary school.
I know like it seems like I’m just reminiscing the “golden days”, but trust me, there’s more than just that.
When I broke free, I talked normally – and by normally, I mean like an extrovert again. Or like someone who talks comfortably and with nothing to lose; not because they’re in a position where they have to, but because they’re bored. That’s how frequently I used to talk. I talked because I was bored and wanted stimulation, and sure, maybe to lighten someone’s day up, but not really for any other reason.
Talking should feel great and shouldn’t feel like a burden that everyone has to carry on their shoulders from time to time. It should be massless, and actually make you stronger (better talking ability = better ability at forming connections). After all, a stronger and larger network of good people can only help you.
During the years that led up to this 3-year “awakening”, I’d call it, I talked comfortably and without problem, but not fully consciously. I never realized it, but the entire time I had a limiter placed on me (by myself) that I didn’t even know existed. To this day, I still don’t know what it was or why I had it, but nonetheless it eventually faded with time. This means it gradually got better as time passed and as I, unironically, learned to communicate ideas with myself.
Becoming Social Is Simple, Not Easy
If you’re goal at the end of the day is “I want to talk to more people and with ease”, then that’s a great goal to have in mind. But if you’re steps leading the accomplishment of that goal are jagged and poorly carved in dirt, then it doesn’t really mean much.
To be completely transparent, doing what I did for a majority of people is unrealistic. We all have limiters placed on us, and it’s our job to accept that there’s virtually nothing we can do in almost all cases. And no, unfortunately, life isn’t an anime, and you can’t Eren Yeager your way out of it.
I only got better at talking by letting go of this standard of needing to be perfect and always thinking of what people thought of me. That destroyed the way I talked and felt on the inside. If you can’t properly communicate with yourself or have some time on your own without consequences, you’re flawed. Sure, you need to put yourself in uncomfortable situations, but I did that too and for a long time it didn’t really do anything. The most important thing you can do is understand who you are and stop trying so hard. Virtually nobody cares what you’re thinking nearly 100% of the time, so neither should you. Just talk without manually making it feel like work.
And if you make a mistake, who cares? Embrace it!
If you spend your whole day thinking about how you wore poorly matching clothes, you’ll never get ahead. I know pessimism is not the thing people like hearing, but sometimes it’s the thing you need to hear.
There is no step-by-step plan or anything like that for this objective. If you want to get better at speaking with others, you need to stop caring about how well you speak with those same people.
Professional advice doesn’t work here because anyone can talk professionally. In that kind of setting, there’s a goal in mind and both parties know that it doesn’t matter if they mess up their wording. They can both get on with their day. You and I know this isn’t professional. It’s very far from it. So stop treating it that way. Have fun with it.
Conclusion
I’m probably going to start writing shorter posts. I think it yields more a benefits on both sides. But let us know if you believe in the contrary. Regardless, thanks for stopping by and I hope you got something out of this. Learning to speak fluently and seamlessly is no easy feat and I know that very well. It’s rough in the beginning and you’ll only realize the journey you had to take once it’s finally all over.
