Disappointing others is a huge fear of mine. Granted, it’s a fear I largely create in my own head, but, it really wigs me out to think that I could let down the people I love most.

What I often forget, though, is that it should be just as much of a priority—if not the priority— to not disappoint myself. At our lowest and our highest, we’re always enough—just as we are. As Glennon Doyle puts it, confidence is loyalty to one’s self. How often do we speak of wishing to be more confident while being far more loyal to other’s expectations of us than our needs? To be more confident, we must be more loyal to ourself. Sometimes that involves disappointing others, even those we love. But, nothing will disappoint those who love us more than us not loving and taking care of ourselves.

I don’t like setting boundaries. It feels really uncomfortable for me. I want to lash out or be snappy and hope that someone can read my mind and then I won’t have to tell them what I need. My “not enough” story creeps up. This becomes a problem when I need to set a boundary, but I’m ready to rev into people-pleasing rather than self love.

I think through people-pleasing I used to “get” permission to love myself— as if I needed to earn it or verify my worthiness through helping someone else. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in adaptability and being able to “take one for the team,” but I know I’m not always honest with myself and others about what I’m actually able (and happy) to do. @glennondoyle , in her smashing hit Untamed writes about not disappointing ourselves.

There’s a Eleanor Roosevelt quote on my wall that says:

“The moment a women comes home to herself, the moment she knows that she has become a person of influence, an artist of her life, a sculptor of her universe, a person with rights and responsibilities who is respected and recognized, the resurrection of the world begins.”

Not disappointing myself looks like coming home to myself. It is challenging and definitely not as simple as skipping up the driveway to a perfect white picket fence, but it’s like that scene in It’s a Wonderful Life when George Bailey chooses to live again, runs home, grabs the broken knob on his staircase, and is overjoyed. I always cry at that part of the movie; it is moving to listen George weep as he realizes he wants to live again, and then watch as he sees his wonderful life, after being afforded the unique perspective of how the world would look had he never been born.

One thing I struggle with, though, throughout the whole movie, is how George puts his dreams on hold. And it’s celebrated. Like, wow, look at him, passing up his dreams again, all to serve his family and to spite some rich, greedy jackwagon. And I think it is honorable, George’s loyalty to his family and his attentiveness to those who need him. But, a small part of my heart breaks each time I watch the film, as I begin to understand how he grew so resentful and frustrated and desperate leading up to him contemplating on that bridge. Don’t get it twisted—I believe there is a beautiful message in this movie, and I will make my future children watch it in black and white every Christmas morning, because that’s what Mom did when she was growing up, and one day they’ll appreciate it. But, the beauty is when George is able to discern between the life he once dreamed of and the life he built, and he realizes that they, shockingly, align pretty darn well. And, he chooses his life. Ding ding ding, the power of choice.

We people please out of should’s and I have to’s. We love out of I choose to’s. I choose to’s are untamed. They are intentional. And they come from a place of worthiness and wholeheartedness, as opposed to not enough-ness and scarcity. When we choose our lives, and we get picky about the choices that are compounding to shape our lives, we are being loyal to ourselves, inherently, building confidence. As my friend Emma would say, we are watering our inner seeds of worthiness and weeding out the old not enough stories we used to let pester us.

I continue to rumble with the practice of true confidence, of being loyal to myself. The most important practice, I have found, is what Glennon calls sinking into our knowing. I like to spend time with my knowing; she has lots to teach me. It is vital for me to let myself be born again and again and again, to tell new stories and to release my words into the world with open hands, palms facing upwards. Being loyal to oneself involves chasing our dreams, which involves actually allowing ourselves to dream big in the first place. Even though we might fail. Even though we might catch some bruises and scrapes and scars along the way. Even though some jackwagons in the cheap seats (or in the fancy boxes) might laugh or throw popcorn at us from time to time. Who cares? They’re not in the arena with you. I hope to dream so big it makes me uncomfortable. That is an ambition bound to make a few others uncomfortable along the way.

The person who matters most, especially when we fall down, is ourselves. Who else is picking us back up? I mean, ideally, we make some awesome friends who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, and enter their fair share of arenas as well. But, as we dare greatly in this dance of life, we must demonstrate to ourselves that we will be there to pick up our own broken pieces. That we can roll with the discomfort of taking leaps, even when we don’t land so gracefully. When we trust in ourselves, when we have faith in our ability to get comfortable with getting uncomfortable, when we can hold our own hands—it shifts every other relationship we hold sacred. We are able to navigate life, turbulence and all, with a clear sense of our worthiness. Worthiness is magnetic; we all want it! We are all born with it, too. I, also, believe that we humans are pretty good bullshit detectors: we can tell when people are engaging with us from unworthiness, and it doesn’t feel good. Worthiness is attractive. It allows us to attract other light-filled individuals into our lives. The practice of confidence is a self-fulfilling prophecy. As we grow in confidence, we do things that build confidence. Like all truly good things in life, the hardest part is starting. Once we’ve got some momentum, building confidence is largely smooth sailing.

Building fidelity with ourselves is the cornerstone of building a wonderful life. It encourages us to chase our dreams, to let some dreams go in order to make room for bigger ones, or to appreciate the ones that have found us right where our feet already are. There is a peace that stems from knowing ourselves deeply. It is not easily shaken. This is a practice at the heart of how I would define a wholehearted life. Research tells us that we cannot meet others more deeply than we meet ourselves, let alone raise children who can meet themselves more deeply than parents (and future parents) exemplify. Let us all remember the importance of the relationships we cultivate with ourselves, and always grant ourselves the permission to disappoint a few people along the way (even people we really love) so long as we do not disappoint ourselves.