Have you ever thought in detail about the difference between Conceit and Confidence? It’s a fine line, isn’t it? I’m sure you all know some people who hold their head waaaaaaaay above yours, looking down on you as if to say ‘Oh dear, look at you down there, kissing my feet, probably wishing you were up here with me, gliding through life’, and he or she is regarding everyone through his or her self-assured, self-important beady eyes, spending a lot of the time polishing his/her own imaginary halo, donning his/her fake smile, accepting, with big headedness, every compliment you wish to give them and choosing to add a few ‘I am bloody amazing’s’ in there too! The type of person who has no regard for anyone else but their own self inflated ego thinking that everyone actually wants to be them. Errrr…..no thank you.
That’s conceit, right? Self-adulation, vanity to a fault, arrogance, cockiness, being overconfident.
Whereas confidence, or self-confidence, I believe to be self-love, not the same love for self like Mr or Ms Cocky pants over there, more of a healthy self-respect, complete trust in oneself, belief in one’s ability, accepting oneself just as they are.
So, I just have to tell you about the fabulous force of this bold, courageous and confident woman I encountered on the day of my Chemotherapy treatment #5. I was sat in my ‘chemo chair’, wondering what to do next. Would I decide to watch something on my tablet, write more of my blogs, listen to some music, keep listening to the poor chap opposite me who, love him, was informing the nurse of how awful his life is and how he really is experiencing so much anguish? (I felt for him….and the nurse). Or would I decide to respond to well-wishers, text my Mum to say that I love and miss her, message my Dad to tell him that I love and miss him, What’s App my sister to tell her she rocks, she inspires me every day and that I love and miss her, text my friend to tell her she also rocks, and I love her, text my chemo buddy from the last session to see how she’s feeling, text the neighbour’s dog’s puppy to tell it…..a-hem…..I could go on and on!!!!!! (Hey readers, am I normal? Don’t answer that! Sometimes, I actually wonder whether I am sane when I go off on all these weird tangents in my head like this…..hee hee!)
Let me just say at this point, chemo wards are quite surreal really. It’s ever such a welcoming environment. The first ward I was in only had four chairs strategically placed around the room, so quite small really, and a couple of other booths in which you sit on your own. The last ward I was in, there were, I’d say, 14 chairs, and all the patients are sat there, rigged up to their intravenous drips, some patients minding their own business, others conversing with the people next to them, but all of us with an odd expression on our faces, some not quite looking others in the eye, head slightly facing down so as not to be caught looking directly into the eyes of the next person, a knowing on our slightly pale faces that we’ve all got cancer!! We’re all there because we are attempting to, with the help of the necessary equipment, and Dorothy Drip Stand holding her bags of liquid poison, kill off the bastard cells that have invaded our bodies and are attempting to shorten our lives. I don’t know, maybe there’s an element of us all thinking in our minds, ‘I wonder whether you over there, opposite me, three chairs down, will survive this’ or ‘I wonder who you’d leave behind if this horrible disease took you down’. Gosh….how morbid but I won’t lie, it does cross your mind. And then when the few hours of drug administration is over, I say my goodbyes, waving, saying “see ya next time” (for this god-awful experience that nobody really wishes they had to endure). To be fair, it’s not that bad, once the needle is in, you’re just sitting there having a jolly, wondering what to do to pass the time away. It’s quite nice to just stop and sit still rather than be in the rat race of your life that is usually happening around you on a day-to-day basis. See? I’m always looking for those silver linings aren’t I? Tick….another one found!
Anyway, back to the actual point I was making! I had settled on watching some live music on my phone, seeing as I’m missing that part of my life so much and….in walks, sorry….in strides a lady with purpose, heading to her designated ‘chemo chair’ with confidence and panache. Wearing animal print trousers, tigers printed on her loose fitting blouse, fabulously high-heeled boots in red. (I would certainly fall flat on my face if I wore those), and dark glasses, a brilliantly coiffured, cropped, short hairstyle, tinted blonde. She was carrying a designer handbag and swaying from her ear lobes were ridiculously large gold hoop earrings…..WOW……AMAZING! She was totally rocking it. And there’s something to be said in that.
I could tell straight away that she has an unwavering faith and belief that Cancer is not going to bring her down. There was no doubt, in her mind, that she was already healed. I bet she tells herself this like I do.
Now, some people might look at her and think ‘who does she think she is?’ Well, not me, I thought she was fantastic and looked awesome, and I told her so, ‘you look fabulous!’ I said with enthusiasm. And I followed it up with, ‘you’re going to kick cancer’s arse just like me, aren’t you?’ I don’t think I need to tell you what her reply was. You can guess. And she responded to me with absolute conviction in her voice.
The thing is, she knew what she wanted. She has cancer, like me, but she had a purposeful demeanour displaying courage, fight and belief that this horrible disease would not beat her and will not take her down. It will absolutely not dictate to her.
THAT, my friends, is the only way to be! The only way to cope with this disease. I applaud her.
One thing having a rogue boob has taught me is to have a renewed sense of self-confidence. Confidence has always been, and you may not believe this about me being a singer and performer, one of my ‘things’. One of the aspects I struggle with. My knees knock and my heart pounds before every live performance. I guess it’s because I’m a perfectionist and love to do a good job. But since having cancer, I’ve almost been forced into learning to have more self-confidence because I figured, what choice do I have? Now that doesn’t mean that my new- found confidence will turn into conceit, not ever because that’s not in my makeup. I’m not built that way.
After shaving my head, it took me a few days to be comfortable at looking at myself in the mirror, to be ok with who was staring back at me. It’s such a shock to the system to see such a huge change in one’s appearance. Why, just because I’ve got naughty boobie cells in situ, which meant my hair fell out, should I dislike what I see in the mirror? We’ve all got aspects of our bodies we dislike, haven’t we? Before this, it was my thighs and my bottom, which are a bit flabby it has to be said. Although since being diagnosed with cancer, I’ve lost some weight and these areas are not quite so flabby……hoorah! Thank you, Cancer, I am grateful to you.
So, I now concentrate on the things I do like about myself. And some people say I have a nice mouth, a nice smile, so I concentrate on that instead and the other aspects of my body that I tended to be unhappy about disappear or dissipate. And I often say in the mirror, “I love and approve of myself”. Try it….see how it changes your perception of your so-called flaws. They tend not to be flaws over time.
And let’s face it, this is going to be so important when I look at myself in the mirror with a scar where my breast once was. As a woman, who cares about her appearance, (well it is my work after all, in beauty, and being on show, so to speak, in the entertainments’ industry), how will this affect my self-confidence? Cue that positive self talk and mind chatter. Let it be my superpower and let it whirl through my mind with fabulous, purposeful force ….just like animal-print trouser lady.
I’ve got this, people. I will own this new territory, this new fight…..you won’t see it for dust! But I’ll have to work hard, I feel. Work hard to see through that scar to my heart, which is always full of love.
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