Part 5, Crash Course in Wisdom: What I’ve Learned about Confidence from 6,000 Conversations

Last week I told you I’d be sharing a Crash Course in how to build the kind of confidence that keeps you grounded, no matter who questions your decisions. The kind that lets you say: I make decisions for my life, you make decisions for yours, and mean it. Read last week's blog if you’re wondering what that means. 

Today we’re going deeper, like what causes you to have or not have confidence.

But I need to start by telling you a little something about my grandmother. She made me believe that I was more important than anyone, rich or poor, famous or not. I'm serious and it’s hard to explain without making her sound delusional, but she believed in me. She believed in all of us, but we all felt like her favorite. 

Her love made me feel like I had already won in life. Yet, her love made me want to keep going. She made me understand that I had choices and like there was nothing I couldn’t do. She could read my mind and let me read hers. That’s a superpower only grandmothers seem to have.

Mothers are powerful and have their own super power, but the also hold responsibilities that grandmothers don’t. Mothers have expectations, as they should. Their job is to path the way for you. That’s why everyone loves their mother no matter what there relationship with her was, but there is nothing like a grandmothers love.

And I’m not alone in that experience.

As a therapist, I’ve asked over 6,000 people a simple but powerful question:
“When in your life did you feel the most loved?”

The number one answer, across therapy sessions, speaking engagements, webinars, worksheets, and social media comments, has consistently been some version of:
“At my grandmother’s house.”

Sometimes it was MiMi, Nanna, Granny, BiBi, or Big Mama. It transcends culture, the name changed depending on the family, but the feeling was the same. And it wasn’t just about the person. It was about the space too. It was about the house, the smells, the rituals, the peace, the warmth, the food, the freedom, and the safety.

The second most common answer is grandfather. Then, for those who had an involved father, it’s the father. But mother, as surprising as it may sound, is usually the last person people name when describing when they felt the most loved. Maybe it’s because you expect mothers love and it is taken for granted. Maybe it was because mother was busy stressing over bills and meals that she didn’t have enough time to show it, or maybe she wasn’t there. 

Now, when I ask people who they love the most, then mother is often the first answer. That’s not to diminish mothers. It’s to point out a pattern. It may also help mothers understand that though they are giving their all and doing their best they really can’t do it alone. And although children often love their mother first, they may not feel like their mothers first love.

And here’s something else that pattern suggests:
Maybe I never get to meet the people who’s mothers put them first. Who’s mothers made them feel most loved. Maybe, if a person has a deeply loving relationship with their mother, they are far less likely to need therapy. Those that didn’t feel love from their mother needed therapy. Those that felt that they got enough love from their mother, didn’t need therapy as much. 

Those with mothers love tend to have stronger emotional regulation, higher self-esteem, and a clearer sense of self confidence. If they also had love from their father and grandparents, especially their grandmother, that confidence is even stronger.

But even when a person didn’t get love from their parents, if they had it from their grandmother, something inside them still knew what real love felt like. That imprint stays. And that imprint becomes a map. It makes them believe that if someone could love them like that, then love is real, and it’s possible to feel it again.

Sometimes, that memory of love becomes the version of themselves they try to become. That version their grandmother saw in them, even when no one else did.

Down South Summers and That Kind of Love

If you grew up in Chicago, there’s a good chance you spent at least one summer “down South” at your grandmother’s house. Maybe she lived in Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, or Arkansas. And you already know what happened when you got there, you were getting shown off.

She’d dress you up on Sunday, take you to church, and introduce you to everybody. “This is my handsome grandson,” she’d say, or “That’s my beautiful granddaughter.” She’d talk about your grades, your manners, your smile, everything she noticed and loved. That was her job, to make sure everyone knew she was proud of you.

And she’d also get a switch and tear your behind up if you disrespected her house. But you didn’t mind (well, not too much), because you knew it came from love. She poured so much of it into you that you wanted to do right by her. She made you want to be your best self. That’s the kind of influence grandmothers have.

Mothers, of course, have a different role. Their job is 24/7. They carry the stress, the responsibility, the pressure. But grandmothers? They get to pour the love without all the daily weight. That’s part of why their love feels so magical. It’s focused. It’s intentional. It’s unshakable.

Mothers, Let the Village Love Your Children

I want to speak directly to the mothers for a second.

Your job is hard. You carry so much. You want to protect your children from everything. But please don’t block the love the village is trying to offer your child.

You don’t have to let just anybody in, use discernment, of course. Don’t leave your child with someone you don’t trust. But don’t let your own childhood trauma make you suspicious of every loving hand that reaches out to help. Your child might need a safe space that isn’t just you.

You can manage the village. You can adjust it. But don’t try to control all of it. When you try to control love, it stops flowing. The goal is not control. The goal is connection.

Let your child be held by more than just your arms. Let them be raised by stories from their aunt, lessons from the neighbor, jokes from the church uncle, encouragement from a teacher, and joy from their grandparents. Let them feel loved from all sides.

It’s Never Too Late to Be Raised

And if your children are grown? Or if you didn’t get this kind of love growing up? Let me say this:
You are never too old to be raised by the village.

You still need people who make you feel safe, supported, and seen. You still need love that makes you walk taller. You still need reminders that you matter.

Whether you’re 8 or 78, confidence is built on love. And love, at its core, is community and connection. The kind that makes you feel like you’re somebody. Like your presence means something. Like you are more important than a billionaire — because you are.

Today’s Crash Course in Wisdom

It takes a village to raise a confident child. And a confident grown-up too.

Whether you’re raising children, supporting grandchildren, or just trying to figure out your own next chapter, make sure love is in the room. Give it. Receive it. Let it grow into confidence. And then pass that confidence on, because someone near you might need it more than you know.

If you or someone you know needs to talk to someone, let them know they are not alone and here’s one place they can go. Start by taking the free quiz and questionnaire.

It Takes a Village to Raise a Confident Child (and a Grown One Too)