Confidence…or the Stark Realisation of the Lack of.

Confidence.

Am I a confident person? I think the answer depends on where and when you may meet me.

At work, most definitely. I love my job. I am confident that I do it well and should you happen to fall under my care one day, fear not. I am completely confident in my ability to look after you.

At home, yep. I don’t have any illusions of being anything close to a perfect parent but I am confident that I am doing a reasonably good job. We have a happy home. We are healthy, we are happy, we are loving, we laugh an awful lot. I am confident at home. Except with an iron in my hand. There my confidence wains.

With my husband, again absolutely yes. I am fully aware of how lucky I am in having married Mr B. He is, without doubt, my best friend, my rock, my greatest supporter and the love of my life. He is the first person I want to tell about anything of significance, or any insignificant but amusing anecdote I may stumble across in the local paper on my lunch break. He is the first person I text when I realise I have just developed a spot on my nose, a rip in my tights or a new grey hair, because I know that he will make me laugh and tell me that I am beautiful to him regardless. In my marriage I am truly confident.

But am I confident?

I am currently sat on a train, on my own, on my way to London. I rarely do anything on my own these days and, as a mother of two small children, this also includes going to the loo. I cannot remember the last time I had a wee in peace. But here I am. Just me and my laptop. The ability to wee, pester-free, whenever I wish.

This trip has been planned for a while and was not originally planned this way. Plan A had Mr B alongside me but, life being life, not all went according to plan and it was no longer possible for him to come too. Childcare issues sadly meant he could no longer make it and he is currently holding the fort while I venture out, alone.

Alone. Am I confident alone? No. It would appear that I am not.

We have known that I would be making this trip alone for some weeks. For the last two I have awoken each morning with intense jaw pain. A result of unconsciously grinding my teeth throughout the night, a classic stress signal of mine. Those are the nights that I have slept. There have been frequent sleepless nights of late.

But what am I worried about? Sadly, the list is long. Despite having spent over a year commuting regularly between Reading and London for work I have now developed a fear of travelling in London alone. Everyone moves so fast. I never know which zones I need. I panic. I hate it. There are also tube strikes this weekend which might mean buses, and we all know bus people are crazy #fact #notreallyanactualfactbutyouknowright?

I also have a fear of fire and will go to bed tonight convinced that some bevvied-up smoker is about to set my hotel floor on fire. After they have broken into my room and robbed me of course.

WHY AM I DOING THIS?

*Deep breath*

Because…I am joining in with the awesome Team Honk, many of whom I know and have met, but there will be hundreds of other people there too. What if I can’t find them?

There will also be a load of other bloggers there that I converse with regularly but have never met in real life. What if I don’t recognise them and they think I’m really rude?

On top of that, I can’t dance. I am not pretty and not remotely photogenic so hate even having my photo taken. You will find a grand total of two photos of my actual face anywhere on this blog. But tomorrow I will be being filmed, in leggings, not being able to dance, for SIX HOURS which will be broadcast live to the nation on TV.

Where do I eat tonight? Do I sit in the hotel restaurant with my book like a total loser on a Saturday night or do I hide away and grab a sandwich to take up to my room?

I am hopeless alone.

And not very confident.

But I am still doing this. I have no idea what tonight or tomorrow may throw at me. I WILL be scared, multiple times. Mostly on the tube/bus. But I am still doing this.

I am doing this in support of comic relief. I am doing this to try and help people in actual desperate situations both in Africa and here in the UK. Situations worse than just being a bit scared in London or making a fool of one’s self on TV. THAT is why.

If you are joining me as part of tomorrow’s danceathon please come and say hi. It would be lovely to see a friendly face. I will be the terrified looking one hiding at the back.

If you are a reader who would like to make all this fear just a little bit more worthwhile you can sponsor me here. Even just £1 could buy a mosquito net that could potentially prevent a child contracting malaria. Seriously, £1 could save someone’s life.

If you see me looking lost at Paddington, a hug would be nice. And a point in the right direction. I have no sense of direction either.