Lies I’ve Told Myself
Isn’t it striking the things we quietly believe about ourselves without pausing to consider whether they’re true? Even if we’re a self-reflective type, lies can lurk in our subconscious and cause us to engage in unhealthy patterns of behaviour. What about this insidious and seemingly insignificant one? People aren’t interested in me.
This lie stalked me well into my forties. Why had I never stopped to unpack it and consider whether it was true?
Being an introvert, I often made myself small by retreating from a crowd. Cocktail parties? You know, those intimidating gatherings where you know no one and are forced to mingle and make small talk? These types of cortisol-peaking experiences were not my friend. They bubbled this false belief to the surface—almost into plain sight.
Assuming people were disinterested, I was fearful to engage in these sorts of social interactions. What if I couldn’t hold a conversation, said something foolish, or the intricacies of the discussion weren’t part of my wheelhouse? What if I started talking about a topic and a person grew bored? My modus operandum? I limited my verbiage and excused myself before their eyes could glaze over, or they peered over their glass past my shoulder. Sometimes I didn’t try at all.
No one would have guessed I was dragging this lie around. From the outside, I appeared confident, but this invisible foe was ever my sidekick with ready accusation. Looking back, I wonder how often I lost out on relationships and forfeited community and connection? How many times had I indirectly made it about me?
At first glance, aloof behavior may appear a simple confidence issue, but dig a little deeper, and it’s masquerading as a fear of rejection.
Nearly a decade ago, I began to actively face this fear rather than avoid opportunities of rejection. About this time, I decided to stop shrinking back. Instead of declining invitations to conferences and parties, I accepted and attended—often purposely solo. I showed up scared but made a point of striking up conversations, introducing myself, and sitting at the table with strangers. To my surprise, people were warm, receptive, and interested. Who would have known?
Risking rejection, I met amazing people and even made friends in other countries. I built confidence, found I could connect and converse freely, and was surprised by the joy and excitement of engaging with others. After repeated effort it became natural to engage openly. It was an adventure I never allowed myself to take. I had unlocked a part of life I’d never been brave enough to live.
Fear of rejection handholds the fear of others. If we care what people think of us—whether they like us or not—we will be much less willing to engage. We’ll worry about saying the right thing, how we present ourselves, or how others perceive us. We’ll pull back rather than step forward. In doing so, we won’t allow our authentic self to be known.
In shrinking back, we also deny our self-worth. When we forget that we are created in the image of God, to glorify him on earth, and to love him and others, it’s easy to feel inferior in social circles. When we negate that God made us on purpose for his purposes, we minimize the unique bent we bring to the table. When we fail to see and celebrate the gifts God has given us, we allow comparison to steal our joy or gumption.
Alternatively, when we link arms with God and listen to what he has to say about us, what others think of us fades into the background and is replaced by contentment, peace, joy, and love. Grounded in God, we’re more likely to possess an inner confidence independent from outward appearance, performance, or the acceptance and applause of others. We’re more prone to be other-focused instead of inward and closed. With God, we can embrace life and others freely without fearing rejection.
This newfound pattern of risky, relational behaviour also impacted my long-term friendships—many of which I realized I’d been holding at arm’s length for fear of hurt or rejection. The depth of those relationships exponentially increased when I began to show up authentically and fearlessly, as did my heart toward those friends.
They say do what scares you, and I believe that wholeheartedly. That wobbly place is where true growth happens. All the while we hide and avoid our fears, they expand. Facing the monster, we may find another timid soul who wants desperately to connect but needs another to make the first move. We find that confronting our fears makes them shrink to their rightful size. No longer do they loom as insurmountable objects; we see them for what they are—obstacles to the thing we really want, in my case, authentic connection.
Here’s a simple takeaway to try this week—a remedy at those pesky cocktail parties. Before entering a crowded social place where you may feel unsteady, say to yourself, “It’s not about me.” This simple mantra has been a game-changer for me. It takes the focus off us and places it onto others. When I say this, alongside a prayer for God’s help, I’m more likely to step forward and fearlessly and authentically engage. In doing so, I’m usually amazed at how little it takes for a conversation to ensue and human connection to be made.
Recently, I overheard my eldest daughter tell her younger sister, “It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.” How true that is! I’m still untangling awkward, but I’ve made some decent strides. I’m less apt to decline invitations, and I attend events with anticipation and even excitement. And those cringy cocktail parties? Not nearly as foreboding. After all, it’s not about me.
“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” ~ Ephesians 3:20-21
