Behind my laptop keyboard, I’m outlandish, extroverted, and witty. I push the envelope with my prose, and jab quick wit at my readers without any filter.
At times, I may seem outlandish, preposterous and forthright. Certainly, it’s easy to be all of these things when nothing stands between you and a computer screen.
Through writing, I’ve been able to showcase a part of my personality – the extroverted, bubbly side that tosses out an eccentric stream of consciousness through humor, science, and wisdom.
In person, however, I’m reserved. Shy. Calm. Intuitive.
I hate flattery. I hate compliments. I hate accolades. I hate labels. I hate the idea of prestige.
And for a woman who has accomplished a lot, it’s weird.
Sure, my education, certifications, media publication features, and accolades are splashed across my site, but that’s as pompous as I’ll get.
If someone asks me about myself at a cocktail party, I put my tail between my legs, blush, and try to avoid the subject.
“So how many soccer records did you break in college, Erica?” asked another coach at a conference.
“I don’t remember. Can you pass the bread?” I replied.
None of this is to brush what I achieved under the rug.
It’s to quietly accept what I’ve accomplished in my internal being. Because at the end of the day, I did all of this for my damn self.
Stamping myself as a “College All American” or a “M.S. in Exercise Science” or a “Published Fitness Writer” or “Goal Scoring Record Breaker” was more than bragging rights.
I learned grit. Hard work. Creativity. Authenticity. Commitment. Adversity.
That’s what this all means.
So the next time someone asks me who I am and what I’ve done, I’ll nonchalantly tell them, “Google it.”
And then replay the insatiable hard work it took to get to this point in my head, while smiling to myself in a corner.
That’s humble confidence.