Voice of my childhood still echoes in my head

During the early ’70s, I grew up in an environment where it was rude to brag or boast.

From my vantage point in a low-income, single-parent household, as the kid of an Indian day school attendee, I was told to put others first, stay in the background and contribute to how things get done.

While this ingrained a deep sense of humility, community well-being and functioning, it also had other impacts.

And as I turn the corner into my 50s, I begin to deeply understand how my social position during my early years has impacted my confidence today.

Introverted by today’s definition, I was a kid comfortable behind the scenes.

But occasionally my heart would ache to be in the spotlight, recognized for something I did.

For my birthdays, I recall how others had first crack at games (they were guests), got the best pieces of cake (at their request, which was to be accommodated), and that I was the one who did the serving.

At other people’s parties, they were the “guest of honour,” leading games and getting first crack at the cake.

When I won second- or thirdplace awards for skating competitions, science fairs or sports, I had to be the first to congratulate the other winners.

Rarely was I in the numero uno spot, a position I envied.

Decades later, this humility became problematic.

I would not advocate for myself, found it difficult to speak up and took a back seat to challenges I knew I could solve.

My confidence and self-esteem dwindled as I settled into routines, jobs and relationships where I could blend in or hide in the background.

Things changed when I started teaching. As an educator I was put in the spotlight as an expert, knowledgeable person and relationship builder.

Without self-confidence, after all, the tiniest human can see through you, and will play you.

As I began to flourish, I learned to tweak my obnoxious arrogance and flippant sarcasm — a protective mechanism that filled the void in self-esteem — and turn it to a quiet confidence.

Building long-standing relationships with students, adults and colleagues, I positioned myself for future leadership roles.

But as I settle into the later part of my career, I find myself pulled in opposing directions.

I still habitually downplay my skills and abilities when challenged to talk about myself and my accomplishments, and my resumé and interviewing skills have taken much time and effort to improve.

My natural inclination, even now, is to give others credit and let them lead — even though I’m very capable and relish that role — and to be content with second place.

Or third.

I still get flustered — and sometimes speechless — when complimented or publicly acknowledged, and still feel the need to rehearse with prep notes when asked to speak about those very things.

The voice of my childhood, after all this time, still echoes in my head.

The upside, a spark of light through the refuse of my past, is that, at the end of the day, the confident, humble, grounded adult I’ve become will smile, walk proudly and be grateful for my moment in the spotlight.

Without self-confidence, after all, the tiniest human can see through you, and will play you