It has been 22 years, and in those years I’ve begun to learn what drives me. The two main driving forces that I see in my life are fear and confidence. I either do things out of fear, or out of confidence.
Confidence is what leads me to answer questions in Spanish class, make oatmeal in the mornings, shred slopes on my snowboard, and climb trees. I’ve spent time with these activities; I know my abilities and limits, thus confidence exudes forth from my soul when I undertake these pastimes. I feel comfortable in these scenarios, like I do with my friends and family, and actually it is these people, friends and family, which have helped my confidence. They were there to cheer me on when I didn’t think I could go any higher, faster, or do any better. Without their support I probably wouldn’t have as much confidence as I do now, and would not excel at these activities.
Fear is what keeps me on the shore during a big swell, what kept me against the walls at the junior high dances, and makes my hands sweat when I fly. I often weigh consequences, and if I lack confidence, inactivity becomes a safety net of sorts. It’s not that I fear death per se, but rather surviving and having to live with a sense of failure and embarrassment.
If every scenario were life and death, I would be more timid (fear), but I’d also be bolder with the things that I believe (confidence).
Recently I’ve realized that great rewards mean great risks, and that in essence, every scenario should be thought of as life or death. If it isn’t worth risking my life, then it isn’t worth it. The things I truly believe in are worth dying for, and unfortunately fear still triumphs over my confidence in a lot of my beliefs. A quiet voice is rarely heard, and if I truly have confidence in myself, I should be shouting all the time.
If on my deathbed my voice isn’t hoarse from screaming, then you’ll know that fear overcame confidence, and that I never really believed in anything.