I was outgoing when I was very young. My mother said I would ask everyone in the grocery store their name and tell them mine in return. I would stand on tables and sing for anyone who would listen. My mother put me in dance class, likely to fulfill my need to be in the spotlight. I quit when I was 6 because my teacher rotated the front row, my row, to the back. I took it personally and never went back.
My self esteem tended to depend on what others thought of me. My parents, my peers, adults. The older I got, the more I lost my outgoing public persona and saved it for those that I knew liked me for me. Everyone else had to wait for my true self to appear. Looking back, it seems absurd. Allowing someone to see the real me after they knew the real me. Logic escaped me in my youth.
Having friends was very important to me. I always wanted a "best friend" to share secrets and exchange broken heart necklaces with. I was compliant with whatever they wanted to do to ensure we would stay friends. I had no idea how lucky I was to never face peer pressure because I likely would have caved way too often.
I thought the majority of fellow high school students viewed me as shy. I found out later they just thought I was stuck up. That knowledge has helped me try not to judge people based on standoffishness.
I had a blast in college, but was still reserved. It wasn't until I served a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that I came out of my shell. And it wasn't because I was away from everyone I knew, knocking on strangers' doors for 18 months. It was from a singular experience about halfway through my service.
Each missionary is assigned a companion to serve with with strict rules to follow. You wake up by 6:30 am, study and shower, preach and teach all day, then are in bed by 10:30 pm. You write your family once a week on Mondays and call them twice a year on Mother's Day and Christmas. There's no TV, no radio, no media from the "world." You have one job — learn about and share the gospel of Jesus Christ.
We weren't doing that.
My third companion and I had slacked off. We weren't obeying the mission rules and it was getting to me. I had decided to change and try to set a good example for my fellow sister. I thought we were making progress, but when I discovered her in the spare room talking to her boyfriend (also serving as a missionary) on the phone, I lost it. Unbeknownst to her, I stormed outside in anger and disappointment.
The night was beautiful. We lived on a mountain and there were no lights to obstruct the thousands of stars glittering the sky. I had never felt more alone in my entire life. I couldn't trust my companion, I couldn't call my friends or family, not if I wanted to keep obeying the rules. There was only one person I could go to. I sat down, looked to the heavens, and prayed. I spoke to my Father in Heaven just as if he were sitting right next to me. I shared all my frustrations. How alone I felt. How I just wanted to be with someone I could trust. How much I wanted to feel secure and loved. It was then that he shared with me the most important lesson I've ever learned.
"As long as I'm okay with you, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."
It was a revelation. I didn't have to worry anymore about what I said or did, as long as it aligned with my Father in Heaven. He was already my best friend. He knew the real me because he's known me longer than I've known myself. I was finally free because no matter where I went or who I was speaking to, my best friend was there.
Not to say that I can say and do anything. If I'm mean or gossip, you can be sure He's not okay with it. But I can be crazy and silly or sensitive and honest without worrying about people judging me.
People who know me now would never guess I was shy. I don't have a problem talking to strangers and I speak my mind with love. That night on the mountain changed my life for the better and allowed me to be me.
So just know, from God to you, you're enough. Your inherent personality, whether it's quiet and reflective or loud and attention-getting, it's enough. Just try your darndest to be a good person, then let that be enough.
Allow yourself to be enough.