03 Mar How My Mum Taught Me Confidence
Good morning team!
Today I want to explore confidence. I was reflecting on this on a recent flight I took to America.
I did not become confident by reading a motivational quote. Confidence arrived in small domestic moments, in the quiet authority of a woman who refused to let me shrink.
My mum never used the word confidence much. What she practised was something sturdier. From when I was young, she treated me as if I were already capable. That subtle assumption shaped me more than the praise of others ever could. When I spoke, she listened properly. When I had opinions, she challenged them seriously rather than dismissing them as childish noise. It was difficult to grow timid in a house where your voice is treated as meaningful.
I remember being young and saying something bold about what I wanted to do with my life. There was no laughter. No indulgent smile. Just a simple response: “Okay. Then work towards it.” That sentence did two things at once. Mum had a very matter-of-fact way of saying things sometimes. It validated the ambition, and it placed responsibility on me. Confidence, I learned, is not hype. It is a responsibility accepted.
She also refused to let me hide behind self-doubt. If I hesitated, she would ask why. If my reasons were fear disguised as logic, she would gently dismantle them. “Are you scared?” she would ask, not accusingly, but directly. Growing up now and having navigated business myself, I understand the power of these questions that invite people to think deeper. It is hard to lie to yourself when someone keeps handing you a mirror.
There was something else, too. My mum carried herself with dignity. Whether she was in a hospital waiting room, a school meeting, or a supermarket queue, she behaved as if she belonged there. Watching her taught me that belonging is often a decision before it is a reality.
Confidence, as she modelled it, was not loud or brash. It was calm. It did not seek validation. It assumed worth and stood firm in that reality. When you grow up around that kind of posture, it becomes normal to walk into rooms without asking permission in your head.
When she passed away, I realised how much of my internal voice was shaped by her. The voice that says, “You can handle this.” The voice that says, “Speak clearly.” The voice that refuses to bow to intimidation. That voice did not come from self-help books. It was installed early, and it shaped me as I grew up.
Confidence is often mistaken for charisma. My mum showed me it is closer to conviction. Conviction that you are allowed to take up space. Conviction that your thoughts matter. Conviction that effort is better than self-protection.
If I appear confident now, it is not because I never feel fear. It is because I was trained not to let fear make my decisions. She did not raise me to be fearless. She raised me to be steady.
That steadiness has carried me into all manner of rooms, boardrooms, and stages I once only imagined. Every time I step forward instead of shrinking back, I know where it began. It began at a kitchen table with a woman who treated her son like a man in the making.
Confidence, in my life, is an inheritance.
Have an amazing week
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Have an amazing week
M.T. Omoniyi