🏐 Cast Away Confidence
I accidentally yelled at a friend last week.
It had to do with confidence and lack thereof, and possibly a defensive leap to conclusions (mine) in reply to well-meaning encouragement (his).
But first, a few words on self-confidence and its well-studied cousin, self-esteem.1 For over a decade, I have ranted about these not being effective prerequisites for action (at least for me), most notably in a 2014 blog post, “Self-love formulas are bullsh*t.”
I learned to love myself more fully after getting married, rather than achieving some Platonic ideal beforehand. I grew more confident as an entrepreneur only after leaving my corporate job, not while I was moonlighting. Two years into self-employment, when launching my second website in 2013, I created postcards:
51/49 is the mantra that got me to hit publish on the first five Doh posts, reminding myself to ignore the odds, even when I worried I might be making the biggest mistake of my career by revealing what a hard time I was having as a breadwinner and small business owner.2
Confidence is unreliable, for me.
Technically, confidence refers to a belief in one’s skills and abilities (more akin to self-trust), while self-esteem refers to one’s overall sense of self-worth and value as a person.
’s research shows that when analyzing failures or situations that don’t go as planned, self-compassion has proven more beneficial than self-esteem. From the abstract to her paper on Self-Compassion, Self-Esteem, and Well-Being:3
Self-compassion provides greater emotional resilience and stability than self-esteem, but involves less self-evaluation, ego-defensiveness, and self-enhancement.
Whereas self-esteem entails evaluating oneself positively and often involves the need to be special and above average, self-compassion does not entail self-evaluation or comparisons with others. Rather, it is a kind, connected, and clear-sighted way of relating to ourselves even in instances of failure, perceived inadequacy, and imperfection.
In her book, Right Kind of Wrong: The Science of Failing Well, Harvard leadership professor Amy Edmondson shares the upside of being honest about our shortcomings:
“Vulnerability is a fact. None of us can predict or control all future events; therefore, we are vulnerable. The only real question? Whether you acknowledge it!
Many worry that doing so will make them appear weak, but research shows that being open about what you know and don’t know builds trust and commitment. Admitting doubt in the face of uncertainty demonstrates strength rather than weakness.
Another best practice is acknowledging your own contributions—no matter how large or small—to the failures that do occur.”
Edmondson says this vulnerability and sharing is “not only wise, it’s practical” for two reasons: reflecting publicly on failures builds trust with others, and it makes it easier for them to learn alongside you.
“The fears and defensive habits that buffer us from some of failure’s unpleasantness and bolster our self-esteem also place limits on our ability to grow and thrive,” she writes. “The good news is that we can learn to think differently.”4
My friend Laura and I were commiserating recently about when the economic tides might turn in such a way corporate interest turns from crickets to clients again. Thankfully, we are both starting to see positive indicators.
She is radiant and relentlessly optimistic, having been on her own for sixteen years with a mix of individual and corporate clients. Like me, these last two have been the hardest (in stark contrast to 2022, her best year ever).
While some of our catch-up calls are geared toward helping each other brainstorm solutions to sticky business situations, many aren’t aimed at problem-solving at all—they’re just to commiserate, swap stories, and hear each other say, you’re not alone, I believe in you, keep going.
“We’re like those weathered sailors on a ‘round-the-world journey,” Laura said, sending me into a fit of knowing laughter. “There are all these bright-eyed entrepreneurs who have just gotten on the boat, full of energy and savings, and we’re sunburned and wrinkled after battling the elements for so long. They have no idea how hard it can be.”
We, too, were once those fresh-faced, confident business owners. We had no reason not to be. Yet.5
In the movie Cast Away, Tom Hanks plays Chuck Noland, a stranded former FedEx executive (hello sponcon!). Although he may develop confidence in his survival skills and spearfishing abilities, he cannot say with any degree of certainty when—or if—anyone is coming to save him. Maybe no one is.