Issue No. 81

In the past, I believed confidence was an innate quality, that some people were naturally shy while others were bold and outgoing. I was the shy kid in primary school—the one who appreciated praise from teachers but dreaded the spotlight. I worried about the smallest things: Was my voice too rough? Were my gestures awkward? Would I even make sense? The fear of judgment kept me from expressing myself.

By high school, my perspective shifted. I started to see confidence not as something fixed but as something that could change. I realized people could transform, and I could too. Yet, my understanding of confidence was still limited. I thought that to gain confidence, I needed to prepare obsessively before doing anything. If I wanted to learn to draw, I felt I should watch endless tutorials before daring to hold a pencil. If I wanted to try a new sport, I believed I had to understand every rule and technique before stepping onto the field. This approach only created more hesitation, trapping me further in the very insecurity I sought to overcome.

College was the turning point. Several things happened: I won an international Chemistry competition in Kyoto, Japan, received a fully-funded government scholarship from South Korea, founded Yonsei University’s first climate-focused student organization, and even won a prestigious speech competition. I appeared on television, in newspapers, and on stage. These achievements within a few years baffled me initially, but I think I now understand how they happened. 

Between high school and college, I was desperate to break free from my comfort zone. Studying abroad was not a choice but a necessity, as my parents couldn’t afford to support me otherwise. I longed to leave, sensing deeply that I no longer belonged in my own country—not because of the people but because of the limitations on opportunities. I could feel in my bones that I was meant for more. Sometimes, during classes in my brief stint at a college in the Philippines, I would look out the window and imagine what it would be like to study abroad. My thoughts would drift to South Korea, where my father had worked for many years. I pictured myself there. I looked at photos of other Filipino students who had won the scholarship and imagined myself among them.

Then, I got to work. I devised a plan that would take about a year to complete. My first application failed, wasting that year, but I reapplied and succeeded on my second attempt. Finally, I left. Finally, I felt free. Doors began to open, and I seized every opportunity. I developed my confidence along the way. I learned to swim by swimming—both literally and figuratively. How can you learn otherwise? I forced myself to step outside my comfort zone, accepting the uncertainty, the darkness, and the consequences that came with it. I knew staying where I was wouldn’t work; the only way forward was to keep moving.

Each time I face discouragement, I remind myself of what it means to grow. To grow means to cultivate the courage to accept both what is and what can be. And you do this by taking the plunge, by swimming into the unknown.

Is it scary? Absolutely. Are there unforeseen consequences? Certainly. Will I be satisfied in the end? That remains unknown. But will I learn something? Without a doubt. Every experience is valuable; nothing goes to waste. Just as a child plays with sand, exploring what they can do with it, every adult on the street is partially clueless about what they truly want. They’re simply playing the game, figuring it out as they go. I may have convictions about what I want in life, but I recognize these can change over time. For now, though, I am confident in what I believe: I believe in myself and my capabilities. Place me anywhere, and I will thrive. This confidence is rooted deeply within me; it cannot be taken away. It may falter, it may be dampened by the rain, but it always finds its way back.

If you want to be confident, you first have to be brave. Confidence comes from action, not from preparation. Preparation can be helpful, but it’s also a safety net, a double-edged sword that can protect or paralyze. Real confidence isn’t about being perfectly prepared but about being willing to act without guarantees. It’s about trusting that even if you stumble, even if you face setbacks, you’ll find a way to keep moving forward.

Growth and self-assurance emerge from the messy, unpredictable process of experience. It’s in the mistakes, the surprises, and the moments when things don’t go according to plan that true resilience is forged. This resilience becomes a foundation, solid and unshakable, built on moments of both triumph and trial. So each day, I commit to stepping forward, embracing whatever comes, knowing that every step, no matter how uncertain, builds a path only I can walk.

In life, you don’t wait to become confident to act; you act to become confident. It’s in taking that leap—uncertain but determined—that you discover both your potential and your limits. And along the way, you find that confidence was never the end goal. It was simply the result of having the courage to begin.

Until next week,