The Fear Behind Decisiveness
Someone once asked me why I care so much about what others think of me. He said that I am good just the way I am.
He thought that behind this question was my desire to be good enough for others.
But actually, this couldn't be further from the truth.
How others see me is part of my introspection.
If I see myself, my behavior, and my feelings through another person's perspective, I get the chance to realize why my inner truth and my outward truth don't align.
For example.
Many people think I am very confident, grounded, that I know my worth, or even that I think too highly of myself.
And when, for some reason, they get to know how many inner struggles I am actually going through, how many doubts I have, they are absolutely shocked.
There is one example.
At university we had psychology classes where we had to share things about ourselves. At that time I wasn't doing well at all. I cried. I don't really remember what exactly was wrong, but there were some family issues and I felt heartbroken.
I tried to hold myself together anyway, but it was obvious that not everything was fine.
So that day, in front of 20–25 people, I talked about my father's alcoholism, how I had dealt with him threatening to hang himself from the roof for ten years, etc.
Everyone was in shock.
After class, a girl ran after me and told me how sorry she was for everything that had happened to me.
She said she had never imagined I had gone through so much because I always seemed so grounded, so strong, so confident, so positive.
Like someone to whom nothing really bad had ever happened.
This actually made me think a lot.
Why don't I get the emotional support I actually need?
How could I, if people think I am perfectly fine?
And this tension actually makes me feel pretty dissatisfied...
So I needed to realize why these two things don't align, so I can change something.
If I want the world to react to me differently, then I have to change something in my behavior.
Because from here there are two perspectives I can choose between.
People don't actually care about me.
People do care about me, but they have no clue how much I actually struggle.
And because I know people actually do care about me, the only reasonable explanation is that they have no clue I am struggling.
But why don't they ask?
Here comes the real question.
But what if, instead of blaming people and playing the victim, I try to find the real reason?
Because honestly, if someone asks me the simple question, "How are you?", I will answer, "I'm fine."
And the only way to realize what is actually wrong is by seeing myself through their eyes.
And it led to a breakthrough.
I don't only look confident on the outside, like someone who knows her worth. My positive "everything will be alright" attitude and the fact that I don't overshare my inner world also make people believe that I pretty much know what I am doing.
Even when I have absolutely no clue.
Really. This decisiveness led me through three seasons as High Queen in 773.
I had no clue what I was doing, but because I did something, it somehow worked.
And somehow people believed that I actually knew what I was doing, so they did what needed to be done.
But there are two things.
Many times I actually think a lot before acting—I just don't show it. Because no one asked, and many times I am simply bored of explaining the same situation over and over again. Most people try to show me the same perspectives that I have already spent two whole weeks spiraling around, and honestly, I am already bored with them.
Many times I really do make quick decisions. Not because I am so freakin' confident, but because I know that if I don't, overthinking will kill everything and nothing will get done. I will lose my opportunity.
So yeah. From experience, I know that if I don't buy the ticket to that scary roller coaster and just get on it without letting my thoughts take over, I will never ride it.
And I will never have fun.
I know that if I wait too long before sending a message, I will sit in front of it for one, two, maybe even three weeks without ever pressing "Send."
I will rewrite every single sentence 23,252 times, analyzing how using the words "me and you" instead of "us" could completely change the effect of the message.
When I was a teenager, there was a guy I loved.
I had no clue whether the feeling was mutual, but because of religious differences and the distance between us, I knew he might never make the first move.
It annoyed the hell out of me.
I wanted to do something.
So before he traveled home, I confessed.
Not gonna lie—it hurt when he rejected me.
But at least I could move on.
So in the end, it was the right decision.
I knocked on the door and got my answer.
No.
I didn't have to think about it anymore.
I could grieve.
And move on.
And how much missed opportunities can hurt.
There was another man I loved. I loved very deeply.
He lived in a different country.
We clicked really well, but both of us were so wounded, thought so highly of the other, and so little of ourselves, that we just kept spiraling around each other for years.
Trying to make the other realize how we felt, hoping that the other person would make the first move.
Neither of us did.
I thought he didn't love me, so I moved on and got together with someone else.
And he did the same.
Years later, I found out that he had been just as deeply in love with me as I had been with him.
I wasn't fully happy in my relationship, and I know he wasn't either.
Now, around ten years later, I can see how hard he tried to tell me how much he loved me without actually saying it.
How much he tried to show it.
And how little I understood.
Years later, we had a really honest conversation that finally closed this chapter of our lives.
That's why I know it wasn't just part of my imagination.
And all of it happened because we both stayed silent when at least one of us should have spoken.
Taken that risk.
Opened our heart to something that really mattered.
That decision could have led to rejection.
But this way, we lost each other anyway.
Probably part of this is only my imagination and all the untold dreams I once had.
But I believe it could have been a challenging, yet very meaningful and fulfilling relationship.
Something worth working for.
Emotional and intellectual fulfillment.
A shared path.
Shared growth.
Clashing opinions that wouldn't divide us, but bring us closer.
It certainly wouldn't have been easy, because two strong personalities can be difficult to navigate.
You can't put a relationship like that on autopilot.
But relationships were never meant to be easy.
Honestly, I am still full of regrets.
Full of "what ifs."
This is the reason I actually became this decisive.
This loss made me realize that if I don't knock on a door, it may never open.
But maybe the person on the other side of that door is simply waiting for me to knock.
To make the first move. So behind my decisiveness, many times there is no real confidence.
But fear.
Real fear.
Fear of "what ifs."
How things could go wrong.
What could happen.
How my heart could be broken.
How ashamed I might feel because of the reaction.
So many doubts about whether I read the situation—or the person I have to talk to—correctly.
Doubts about whether I am good enough.
Whether what I create is good enough.
What if this is the wrong decision?
Honestly, I would rather protect myself.
Hide in my shell.
Cry.
Do nothing.
Wait for someone to save me.
To make that decision instead of me.
To wait for the universe to come and solve the situation for me.
But the universe only gives me tools and free will to save myself.
How many times have I wished someone would come, grab my hands, and click that "Send" button for me.
Or how many times I wished someone else would make the first move instead of me.
That fear behind every decisive decision is terrible.
Honestly.
Terrifying.
And what comes after is even worse.
Because before making the decision, I hold myself together.
I try to control my mind so I won't be paralyzed by fear.
But once it is done...
Then comes hell.
Overthinking.
Imagining the worst possible scenarios.
Questioning myself over and over again.
But at least, after that, there is nothing more I can do.
Because I made that move.
So all I can do is wait...
And see what comes next.