A PMOS Postcard to Confidence

In the post from Greece

s I write this, I’m sitting atop an extremely fancy cultural centre in the middle of Athens. Everyone is supping on free cocktails that a weird robot arm made them. It wanked them their cocktail. Weird. While I sample an icey Greek wine (I know my boundaries, not around alcohol, but robots) and peek out across the view to the ancient ruins, I think…

What the helly.

I’m here, on my own, leading on a film project for work, with some pretty high stakes attached to it. No pressure etc. So before you get annoyed and think this is a show off boasters blog, fear not, the point of this one is to have a strong word with imposter syndrome and the new dawn of, dare I say, some confidence..?

For as long as I can remember I’ve struggled with confidence. Even as a wee nipper being wheeled off to nursery I remember thinking ‘what if they don’t like the colour of my Pampers’ or ‘will they laugh at my cheese sandwiches cos they’re not in triangles again?’. So add on a few years of that and hit teenagehood with all the PMOS symptoms you can imagine and it’s fair to say confidence wasn’t my strong point.

Now, a note on confidence, because often when I woefully say to someone that I feel a bit shy or I’m reluctant to do something as mundane as talk to a stranger, they’re like' ‘what, you’re well confident though’. WRONG. The dictionary definiton is: a feeling of trust or belief in the reliability, truth, or ability of someone or something, as well as a belief in one’s own self-assurance and capabilities. So it’s not, you’re friendly and like doing activities. It’s a hecky of a lot deeper than that. And for a very, very long time my belief in my self-assurance and capabilities was as strong as the belief that I had cool Pampers. And, unfortunately, I will and can blame a lot of that on PMOS. It’s a zapper of confidence.

The opposite of confidence is, your friend and mine, good old fashioned British insecurity. Which, according to our very own Cambridge Dictionary (a place where I imagine very few are insecure) means either lacking self-confidence or lacking security. An insecure person might constantly doubt their own intelligence. I am constantly doubting my own intelligence and I find the word safety particularly poignant here. In a world where perfect prevails, beauty beats all, and difference dies, there is little room for the girl who’s never worn her hair up as she cant’t cover her spots thst way, or the teenager who won’t join her friends at the pool, or the woman who finally after years of trying for a baby, gives up. None of that sounds particularly safe, does it? So is it a wonder that those of us with a chronic illness like PMOS are a tad lacking on confidence. I don’t think so.

But, sitting here, all these years later, I am finally starting to feel it bubble up inside of me. It’s still a bit shy, a touch uncertain, and quite unsafe. But bit by bit I’m making cheese sandwiches into triangles and I only have this space to thank. Not only am I fessing up to this condition which, to the majority, don’t even know exists at all, let alone within me, I’ve decided to scream it from the rooftops and tell total strangers about the most intimate parts of me.

My greatest piece of advice to you? Go to Athens. Ignore me and get the robot wank cocktail, it’s so strong omg. Don’t shy away from your PMOS. People are more kind than you think, and if they aren’t, fuck ‘em off.

Take a leap of faith, tell people how bloated you’re feeling after that curry, or how wildly emotional that film made you, or no ffs you won’t join them for a half marathon. And tell them why. More communication, more understanding, more space and more noise. Because we’re stagnant when we’re unsafe, and taking a chance on honesty might have the reverse effect. Instead of pooing yourself in front of everyone, and your dress blowing up in the wind and covering your face so you can’t see and then walking into your ex, you might find that actually you’re given greater allowances, people start to see you in a different light and slowly but surely you start to pivot.

So while it’ll still be a minute til I have enough confidence to rock the Pampers again (in case I do in fact poo myself) I’ll sit here with pride, typing away, knowing I certainly do deserve my spot at the table.