I was thirteen. I had learned how to drive a car that summer. Manual transmission/stick shift of course. Automatic was a luxury and for sissies. So I knew how to drive, barely. It was the first snowfall of the winter. Dad grabbed the keys and said, “Let’s go. You need to learn how to drive on snow.”
“What?” I hardly knew how to drive without lurching the car forward. And who could forget the afternoon I backed up traffic on the hill? I was still getting the hang of the clutch release and close to twenty cars lined up behind me as I proceeded to kill the engine over and over again, stalling repeatedly. The pressure was intense and so embarrassing for a teenager. But, you didn’t get to tell my dad no.
I was so nervous. Our gravel driveway was long and lined by a fence that divided our drive from the neighbors. We lived out in the country on a gravel road next to a farmstead. Our house was not a farm, and neither were the other few houses on the road. Dad got me going by saying, “Just drive like you normally would, only a bit slower.”
“Okay. Sure.” The snow was sparkling silver underneath the headlight path. The wheels spun on the freshly laid snow. I could feel the car slipping and sliding, so I gave it more gas to get her going. Took off we did! We shot right out of the driveway, fishtailing and sliding. Bam! I shot myself right into the ditch on the other side of our road, just missing a telephone pole and nearly crashing the family car I knew my parents could barely afford. The only good thing I could see was that at least I had not hit the pole. I couldn’t imagine much worse an outcome than the one I had just produced.
Dad got out of the car and told me to get out. I could tell he was frustrated and doubting this exercise in faith. He went to the neighbor’s farm to ask him to pull us out with his tractor. I went inside the house to try to stay out of the way and tend to my wounded pride. I watched them work, looking out the front window. Mom didn’t say much other than, “It’ll be okay, honey.” I could tell though that it was a worry to them both as to whether the car would need any work.
After the tractor pulled the car out, Dad parked it back in the drive and came inside.
Then, something amazing happened. Dad said, “Come on, let’s go. Car’s running. You need to get back in there and try it again.”
“What? Now? You want me to drive now, after I just landed my first try in the ditch twenty yards away?”
“Yep. You have to get back in there and do it or you will hold onto your fear. You have to do it right now. No waiting.”
God, was I nervous, even more nervous than the first time. But I felt something else, too. Determination. Courage. And I felt the faith my dad had in me that I could do it. If he believed in me, maybe I could, too.
How could he believe in me when I had failed so big?
I didn’t know then that it was a life lesson in the making, but now I do. I’ve been thinking of that moment recently as I’ve been reflecting on the role confidence plays in our success in life.
As girls and women, we do not have the same levels of confidence as men generally do. This is for many reasons – societal upbringing, social norms, brain biology, hormones. The lack of confidence, although it is real, is one-hundred percent unfounded. Women are as competent as men and in some situations even more competent. A lack of confidence does not in any way equate to a lack of competence. We tend to stand in our own way because of pure fabricated storytelling and fear.
Closely related to the theme of confidence and how we obtain confidence is failure and how we view it. Think of Confidence as one side of the coin with Failure as the backside. Confidence shows up more easily when failure is seen as a possibility. Perfection is brick wall to confidence. If we wait to move forward until we’re perfect, we will never take action. But when we embrace failure as a learning tool instead of the end of the line, our confidence is compelled to show up.
If we fail and don’t pick ourselves up off the floor to go after it again, or dig ourselves out of the snowy ditch to take off again, then yes failure is the end of the line. But when we view failure as a necessary step towards learning and growth, we can show up as more authentic and genuine in who we are. We can grow our abilities and show confidence that no matter how many missteps we take, we will eventually achieve what we came here to do.
If I can give only one piece of advice to young women and girls it is to face your fear and do it anyway.
Fail fast. Fail often. Fail brave. See failure as your fastest path to lasting success. Do not wait until you are feeling one-hundred percent ready. You will never feel ready. Do prepare, yes, but then dig in and go for it. Take risks. And when you fall down, get back up with more determination and courage and resolve than before. Repeat as often as necessary. Confidence comes with trust in yourself. Trust that you can handle anything that comes your way, because you’ve already broken through all the walls you had falsely constructed for yourself.
I’ve failed many times in my life. My biggest failures were absolutely my most efficient teachers. I can look back now and feel gratitude for each and every lesson no matter how painful they were at the time.
I guess Dad knew what he was doing all along.
Journal Prompts:
How confident are you on a scale of one to ten? You can examine this question in different areas – parenting, career, relationships. Describe your rating and reasons in each area.
Identify your biggest failure in life so far. What effect did that event have on your self-worth at the time you were going through the experience? Looking back now, how have you absorbed that experience into your life? Do your feelings surrounding that failure differ now with the added perspective of time?
Identify one thing you want to try, but the thought of failure has held you back. Commit to one step in the direction of what you want. How can you move into it knowing that failure is acceptable as a stepping stone on your path?