When I was 13, I thought confidence was something certain girls were just born with. They walked through school hallways like they belonged everywhere, like everyone was watching them for the right reasons. I remember comparing everything about myself and how I looked, what I wore, how funny I was, how many friends I had, to the girls who seemed to have it all figured out. Back then, I believed confidence would arrive one day like a switch flipping on. I didn’t realize it was something you had to practice and create a deep connection with.
Growing up in the same place your whole life can make comparison feel unavoidable. Everyone knows everyone, and it’s easy to feel like your identity is already written for you or displayed by someone else in town. I carried a lot of quiet insecurities with me through my teenage years. Some of them were about appearance, some about belonging, and some about whether I was “enough” in spaces where I constantly measured myself against others. A constant battle with my thoughts and myself.
Leaving my hometown for college changed that more than I expected.
Moving away meant stepping into an environment where nobody knew the version of me I had been in high school. At first, that was terrifying. But slowly, it became freeing. Being exposed to different cultures, perspectives, and lifestyles made me realize how my world had been shut out before. People around me were proud of where they came from, comfortable being different, and unapologetic about their interests and personalities. It made me start questioning the standards I had been using to judge myself for so long.
Independence forced me to sit with myself in ways I never had before. There were moments when I still caught myself comparing my life to others on social media; it doesn’t make it easy to escape, but I began noticing the habit instead of automatically believing it. I started asking myself why I felt the need to measure my worth against someone else’s highlight story.
That shift didn’t happen overnight. Confidence didn’t suddenly appear one morning when I woke up in my dorm room. Instead, it came from small, intentional choices being incorporated in daily actions like speaking up in class even when I felt nervous, trying new things without worrying if I looked “cool,” Even in moments like using an umbrella when it’s raining. Learning to be kinder to myself in moments when I fall back into old patterns.
Sometimes I think about the girl I was at 13. She was so worried about fitting in that she rarely stopped to ask what she actually liked or who she wanted to be. If I could talk to her now, I wouldn’t tell her that one day she’ll magically feel confident. I’d tell her something better: that confidence isn’t a destination.
It’s a habit.
It’s choosing, again and again, to believe that who you are is enough, even while you’re still growing. And in many ways, becoming the woman I am now has simply meant becoming the girl I needed back then.