In the middle of the night, I woke up thinking (as you do), Aaahh, when I finally get that business successful and have made my fortune, I’ll be the articulate, self-confident I’ve always wanted to be.
Almost immediately, an authoritative, almost smirking voice in the back of my head said, Are you sure?
I did not grow up as a supremely self-confident, high-energy individual.
On the contrary. I was a shy, geeky, bespectacled, rake-thin teenager, with terrible self-esteem. (I would learn much later that my parents similarly had terrible self-esteem, so they couldn’t exactly correct my thinking.)
I could never figure out what made so many people around me seem so cock-sure of themselves. I admired them, while being rather intimidated by them.
There was some magical circumstance that was necessary to turn you into that kind of individual. Surely. There must be.
In the middle of the night, the left half of my Gray Matter realised what the other half has long suspected:
Self-confidence and self-belief (indeed, even success) are just like happiness. They aren’t things that happen to you.
They are what you choose to habitually be.
Up to you.