Reclaiming Confidence: From Self-Doubt to Self-Respect - Abhisshek Om Chakravarty | Holistic Life Coach & Mindfulness Mentor

Absolute confidence isn’t loud—it’s the quiet knowing you are enough, even when the world is silent.

I met Rajnish Sama many years ago, but his story still lingers in my heart like a soft echo: one that reminds me of how strength is often found in silence, not show.

When I visited a school in Kolkata to give a talk on "Emotions and Mindfulness", I noticed a student sitting quietly in the second row, eyes lowered, shoulders slightly hunched, as if he was trying to disappear into the background. After the session, while a few students came up with polite thank-yous and handshakes, he waited until the crowd thinned out. Then he approached me.

There was hesitation in his steps, but sincerity in his eyes. He introduced himself as Rajnish Sama, a student. His voice was soft, almost unsure, but his words carried the weight of someone who had been carrying silent questions for too long. “I really liked what you said about not reacting impulsively,” he said, “but how do you actually feel in control when everything inside feels so loud?”

That one question told me everything I needed to know. Not about his intellect, because that was obvious. But about his inner world. Rajnish wasn’t lacking in intelligence or kindness. What he lacked was belief in his own worth.

He had tried, he told me. Tried speaking up in class. Tried initiating friendships. Tried not to feel like the odd one in the room. But every time he did, his inner voice would whisper, “You’ll mess it up. You’re not like them.” That voice—small, persistent, and cruel—had become his constant companion.

What struck me most wasn’t how low his self-esteem was, but how aware he was of it. “I just want to be able to say what I feel without overthinking for days,” he confessed. “I want to look someone in the eye and not feel small.”

Our sessions began gently. There was no fixing, no forcing, just understanding the roots of his silence. We sat with his stories—the bullying he never spoke of, the comparisons at home, the years of pretending to be okay. He had become so good at hiding that he had forgotten what it felt like to be seen.

One of our early exercises was journaling—not as a chore but as a mirror. Every evening, I asked him to write one sentence: “Today, I honored myself by…” At first, his entries were hesitant: “I didn’t cancel class.” “I made eye contact with the chaiwala.” But over time, these tiny acts became tiny victories. And tiny victories, when honored, turn into trust—trust in oneself.

Rajnish showed up on time for Skype calls weekly, with questions, reflections, and honest struggles. He participated in role-plays, practiced social interactions, and even challenged himself to start conversations with strangers at the local library. It wasn’t easy. There were days when he’d fall silent again. But the silence had changed—it was no longer avoidance. It had become a pause before courage.

I remember one session vividly. He logged in, and there was a smile —not the polite kind, but the “I did something brave” kind. He told me he had attended a university seminar and, for the first time, asked a question in front of everyone. “My voice was shaking,” he said, “but I didn’t stop. And when it was over, I didn’t shrink. I actually felt… proud.”

That was the turning point. Not because he spoke publicly, but because he had met his fear head-on and stayed.

His confidence didn’t roar. It unfolded—like a lotus emerging slowly from muddy waters. By our 10th session, he had started mentoring a junior student who was going through a similar struggle. By the 15th, he was speaking up in group discussions. And in our last session, he said something that I now carry as a reminder for myself, too:

“I feel in control of my emotions.”

That, to me, is real empowerment. Not the absence of fear, but the presence of choice.

Rajnish didn’t become a motivational speaker or suddenly turn into a social butterfly. But he found something more precious—self-respect. And with it, a quiet but unwavering confidence. The kind that doesn’t need approval to breathe. The kind that doesn’t collapse under silence.

He still lives in Kolkata. We check in once in a while. He’s now exploring career options that align with his values and passion, not just what society expects. He’s also been considering guiding other students who struggle with self-doubt, which honestly doesn’t surprise me. He’s lived through it. He’s earned his voice.

When I look back, Rajnish’s journey is not just about one individual reclaiming his confidence. It’s about all of us who’ve ever felt unheard, unseen, or underestimated. It’s about learning that self-worth isn’t something to be proven. It’s something to be remembered.

So if you’re reading this and you feel like Rajnish—lost in your own head, stuck between wanting to speak and fearing the echo—let this be your sign.

You don’t have to shout to be heard. You don’t have to impress to belong. You are already enough.

The path to confidence isn’t paved with applause. It’s paved with presence. Presence in your own life. In your own truth.

And if ever you forget, just pause… breathe… and tell yourself, “I am not here to perform. I am here to live.”

Stay real. Stay rooted.

Om poornamadah Poornamidam |

Poornaat Poornamudachyate |

Poornasya Poornamaadaya |

Poornamevaavashishyate |

Om shanti, shanti, shanti hi ||

Hari Om Tatsat!

Warm regards,

Abhisshek Om Chakravarty, (Coach Abhisshek)

Holistic Life Coach | Mindfulness Mentor | Family Mindset Coach 

"Within each soul lies infinite wisdom; I simply help others uncover their light."

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