#94: The secret ingredient of self confidence: self knowledge.
#94: The secret ingredient of self confidence: self knowledge.
How 28 days walking with me, myself, and I made me feel invincible.
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I didn’t know I could face a transition this unbothered.
Though these August weeks are almost identical to those of last year, I feel completely different.
Last year while Connor and Kendall were collecting their shoes and pillows and electronics from around the house to pack for college, I was putting final touches on my Empty Nester World Tour… because the thought of coming back to an empty house filled me with dread.
Admittedly I’ve had practice now, living alone for eight of the last twelve months, but it’s more than that.
The transitions that used to fill me with questions, and the questions that filled me with uncertainty, and the uncertainty that filled me with fear now just spark curiosity. It’s not a question of if I will meet the moment, but how.
And so, while facing a rapid shift from a full house, family dinners, and afternoon sectional cuddle sessions back to emptiness, I feel cool and confident.
I trust myself to adjust to the solitude ahead. In fact, I trust myself, period.
The thing is, I thought I had already reached this pinnacle of confidence.
Since my husband died in 2016, I’ve built an ironclad assurance in myself, layer by painstaking layer. I got myself and my kids through hell, so my ability to survive and eventually thrive is unquestioned. I know what I am capable of. I eat major life transitions for breakfast.
But always with the help of resources, options, support, and whenever time allowed, planning.
However, during my pilgrimage in June, I didn’t have access to my go-to aids. Finishing St Olav’s Way tested solely me and my adaptability. Every. Single. Day.
Shin splints. Wrong turns. Walking in the rain for hours. Menacing cows. Burnout. Hotels that felt like the set of The Shining. Things I couldn’t plan for, opt out of, or call a friend for help with. It was just me, my two sets of clothes, intermittent wifi signal, storm clouds, and the placards that promised I was on the right path.
(You can read all about my pilgrim highs and lows here, here, and here.)
Don’t get me wrong — I believe that unapologetically utilizing any and all resources is an aspect of resilience. I am not saying anyone needs to tough anything out. But the pilgrimage was meant to be a stripping. I was ready to be challenged without my Mary Poppins bag of coping strategies and easy distractions.
I specifically decided to walk St Olav’s because I wanted to go deep into myself, explore any forgotten caverns of my psyche, and emerge liberated by the knowing that I was not avoiding an inch of my interior world.
I’ve tested myself like this before — intentionally facing my rock bottom, but physically rather than emotionally. A couple of decades ago, after months and months of training, I completed an Iron Man triathlon. Crossing that finish line, I felt tough as nails, forged by fire, and capable of moving any mountain. (After I slept for 18 hours straight.)
However, my victory lap since the pilgrimage has had an entirely different flavor. I am not strutting around like a superhero, feeling unstoppable and powerful and confident. I am simply… at peace.
Even while the kids shout from two floors down about a missing airpod and last minute paperwork and that doctor’s appointment they forgot about but is actually happening right now, I feel unshakable peace.
‘Peaceful’ is not the first word that anyone would use to describe me.
Peace feels self-contained, like a legs-folded, orange-robed monk on a cushion chanting in front of a candle-filled altar.
Me? I’m a Tasmanian devil of whirling energy and leaned-in engagement. I’m talking to complete strangers in the shower at my rec center. I’m laughing loudly, head thrown back in unabashed glee. I’m brazen with curiosity and bold questions.
But after having a 28-day-long heart-to-heart with the voice in my head, I’m at peace with myself.
Which didn’t happen from changing myself, but from coming to know myself.
Removing my grab bag of supports meant that while on the pilgrimage, I had no place to hide — no Star Wars movie or art museum or even peppy playlist to distract me from my thoughts and feelings. (I made a point to walk the entire thing without headphones.)
Five years ago, while I was still full-time grieving, full-time parenting, and working a full-time job, you would have had to pry those coping mechanisms out of my cold, dead hands. But in the last year I realized I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life managing my emotions with external measures. I didn’t want to be constantly “coping”. I wanted to learn to sit with the full experience of being alive, just as it was.
As an advocate of vibrant living, it felt important to face life unflinchingly — instead of always turning down the volume during the uncomfortable portions.
I just didn’t realize the main part of life that I was still avoiding was myself.
So I walked into the woods without company or a single downloaded podcast, and here’s how it worked out:
I learned to recognize my foibles and kookiness without denying or hiding;
I faced heavy, aching emotions that I thought would break me, but did not;
I relaxed enough to watch myself bounce between emotional extremes without trying to “fix” them;
I became less judgmental of myself, and more curious;
I realized I am in awe of my ability to adapt and evolve;
I became my own friend, ally, cheerleader, believer.
After 28 days staring Sue Deagle in the eyes, I know there’s no one else I rather spend this life with.
Post-loss survival gave me power.
But post-pilgrimage self knowledge was the key to turning that power into peace.
Peace that comes from seeing my imperfections, but meeting them with curiosity and compassion instead of castigation. Peace that comes from knowing that I can and will screw up, but can and will fix things too. Peace that comes from the choice to work with the truth of who I am, rather than trying to change it.
It’s crazy how much of the chatter in our heads can be comforted into silence when we decide we believe in ourselves, just the way we are.
Going forward, I’ll always have my trusty coping mechanisms in my back pocket, but I don’t think I’ll need them as much. Not because life is going to be smooth sailing now that I’ve reached self-actualization. In fact, the next week or two in the echoing emptiness of the treehouse could be pretty rough.
But after pulling back the curtain and facing all that I am, that doesn’t frighten me. Sue Deagle is capable, adaptable, and pretty good company. I don’t need to hide from what she’s feeling.
As long as I’m on my own team, no aspect of my internal world will break me.
In fact, the aching hurt within usually just wants a listening ear.
And now that I know how to be that for myself, uncertainty, unknowns, and transitions just got way less scary and way more inviting.
In power, peace, and potential,
Sue, can you extrapolate in how to be a listening ear for oneself? I need to have this skill in my toolbox.
Powerful - thanks for sharing.