What Ever Happened to Our Little Kid Confidence?

When I was just seven years old, I knew I could change the world. I didn’t know how, but I knew it was possible.

If we were lucky, we were taught from a young age to chase our dreams to the ends of the earth. We were constantly met with words of encouragement, “keep swimming,” “keep moving,” “don’t stop.”

I rarely remember being discouraged from trying. The sky was the limit.

I was convinced that if we set our minds to it, one day we’d become the astronaut we’d always dreamed of becoming, that popstar rocking the stage, or even be the first to make a discovery of our own.

I firmly believed that one day I would actually own my very own tiara and pink poofy dress, just as any princess would.

At 13, however, I knew I could disturb the universe more so than cause a complete change. I no longer saw myself as entitled and unstoppable, but realized that other people would generally become obstacles barring my path toward my quixotic dreams.

Teachers gradually tell you to stick to what you know and discourage experimentation. They begin to introduce a detailed guideline of how you should be writing rather than help your creative juices flow onto the paper. 

Your parents begin to set realistic expectations, coercing you to take certain classes instead of others so you can work your way into a stable career option. 

At 16, it was clear that I was just another body slumped in a chair, eyes fixed at the board, fingers mechanically taking notes. 

I was lost, beaten down and worn out. Nothing necessarily bad had taken place, but life was happening too quickly, too ordered for my liking and I had no control of the direction it was taking.

External forces began dictating my next move, my ideal behavior, and not to forget the widespread criticism peppered along the way to let me understand that I was swallowing their conformity hook, line and sinker.

The way I look, act, speak – everything was under scrutiny. It was my parents’ disapproval of that extra line of eyeliner, or my supervisors at school telling me to sit up straight, or even my classmates commenting on that new ponytail I chose to wear.

In just a matter of days I was placed under a magnifying glass and it seemed as though everyone had something to say or wanted to change, about ME.

The constant remarks will slowly wither away at your self-esteem. You no longer see yourself as invincible. How could you be superwoman if you were so flawed? If so many people didn’t like several character traits, how could you succeed?

Society neglects constructive criticism. It is understood that parents or teachers generally have the best intentions when it comes to their comments during your upbringing. Nevertheless, the type of remarks, the tone, and the frequency are significant factors that must be taken into consideration to avoid the gradual battering of a young person’s confidence.

Eventually, the lack of confidence succumbs and begins to let go of the dreams.

We are spoon fed so many negative comments that we begin to see our dreams as unrealistic and following them would be unreasonable and a waste of time.

Life clips our wings and convinces us flying is a foolish prank. Dreams should be practical rather than hopeful, the message goes.

It is here that we must reconnect with our seven-year-old selves. Remember when you thought you could be absolutely anyone? Do absolutely anything? Go places only your mind could take you?

What if we never lost that young wide eyed and stiff-shouldered confidence?

Head high, chin up and continuous hair flips – our younger selves had an assertiveness we’d later on forget.

Oh, the things we could have achieved.