HR tips

I was an ordinary woman from an ordinary town doing ordinary things, until the day I decoded what confidence meant to me…that’s when things became extraordinary.

I still remember the drive that changed everything. I was heading to work, stuck in traffic on the M62, so I rang a good friend to have a chat, but that day my mood was low and I wasn’t feeling great. I complained about everything: my career, my salary, the title I thought I should have had by now. I was exhausted from shape-shifting into whoever I thought people wanted me to be, and every moment felt like I was performing as someone else.

I’d spent so long trying to mould myself into the kind of leader I thought others would respect, such as being louder, tougher, and more polished, that I’d lost sight of what leadership looked like when I played to my own strengths.

When I finally stopped talking, there was silence on the line. I thought the call had cut off. Then she said, calmly but firmly:

“So…what are you going to do about it?”

That realisation took me right back to growing up in Manchester, when my confidence in myself started to crumble. As the only Asian family on our street, I learned early that fitting in was the safest option. Day after day, being told, subtly or directly, that you don’t belong chips away at your sense of self and confidence. To ‘fit in’ I became the ultimate people pleaser, conforming to whatever would help me belong.

At school and later in the workplace, that habit followed me. My parents hadn’t worked in offices, so the world of suits, unspoken rules, and after-work drinks felt alien. I spent years trying to fit into what I thought was “acceptable,” believing that confidence and leadership were things other people were born with.

But I realised I wasn’t leading, I was performing. And deep down, I knew if I wanted a fulfilled life, this way of working and living couldn’t last.

That moment on the motorway was when everything shifted. I pulled into the car park at work, and I sat there in stunned silence, realising that my friend was right, change was within my control. It was the first time I understood that it was my confidence, or rather the lack of it, that was holding me back, not anyone else. I realised that my progression was determined by always waiting for validation or permission before I believed I was worthy enough to succeed.

And if I wanted to lead differently, I knew I’d have to decode what confidence means to me.