Yvonne Feresu

Tag: adulting

  • How to build your self-confidence 101

    How to build your self-confidence 101

    I’ve heard people say they want to be more confident, show more boldness…that they wish they had enough self-confidence to give a speech. And when I’m having these conversations, it almost always implied that self-confidence is inborn. Yet, it’s not. It’s a real skill that needs to be built. It’s similar to a muscle, the more you use it, the stronger it gets…but how do you use self-confidence?

    Here’s the funny thing, to gain confidence for doing anything, you actually need to do the thing first. Take for example, giving a speech. You give the speech first, then you gain the confidence to give more speeches. And more and more, until eventually you become this guru that everyone thinks is super confident, infallible and can speak in front of thousands of people at the drop of a hat. So the first step isn’t really confidence, it’s bravery, bravery to face your fears. Let me tell you a little story…

    Brimming with confidence

    It was the year 2013, I was the new girl in school having joined in the winter term at a mission all girls boarding school. I seemed posh, maybe a little snobbish, coming from a private school and full of sass that got me into trouble at my former school. There was an annual concert to be held the following term, but of course preparations for it started during 2nd term. The club responsible took their duties very seriously, after all, this concert was a pretty big deal even for us. We got to invite plenty of other schools, and of course, the boys’ schools too. Anyways, suffice to say, it was a pretty big deal. They wanted all sorts of talent for the concert…the seniors clamoured for these slots.

    So there I was, the new girl…and I wanted in. Did I mention that I was in Form 1? Oh yeah, I was at the bottom of the rung, but at that time it never really occurred to me that I was younger, therefore should be timider. They had a call for auditions and brave little me responded. I wanted to model, I was determined to walk down that runway, (although I wasn’t concerned about winning the title.) And I did, I made it through the auditions. I don’t know why, but I did. I didn’t win the title of-course, but I surprised people. They couldn’t figure out where I got the audacity from. Fast forward to form 2, and I did it again (though I still didn’t win).

    Brave little me at 14 standing on the ramp with the other models (participants)

    I vividly remember a particular conversation with a schoolmate, about confidence. She asked me how I did it, and I said you just have to be brave enough to try first, then the confidence will come each time you do the thing. She didn’t believe me, instead she said I was just naturally self-confident. She was wrong…self-confidence is a skill you build by doing the thing, processing feedback, then doing it again. That’s how you become confident in your own abilities; you know you’ve done it before, or that you have the capability to do it even for the first time; because you’ve done some amazing shit in the past.

    So…

    How to build your confidence?

    What’s the secret? Here’s the truth, there’s no real secret to building self-confidence. It’s a simple process really….at least the simplified version of it is.

    Step 1: Be brave and face your fears

    Step 2: Do the thing

    Step 3: Evaluate, process feedback, improve

    Result? CONFIDENCE! 

    I was the co-host for Miss University of Zimbabwe 2015 at 20 years. I wasn’t born confident, I worked for it

    Step 4: Repeat

    Now go forth and build that confidence! We always continously need to keep building and fortifying our self-confidence especially when we constantly venture into foreign waters.

  • I’m 24 and I’m still trying to find myself

    I’m 24 and I’m still trying to find myself

    Have you ever lost yourself? Is it possible to lose yourself? I always find it a little strange when people talk about “finding yourself”, it’s a bit of an odd statement, but I’m finally willing to admit that I lost the plot a while ago. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing, and where I’m going, all I know is I have to keep moving, and that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I can’t afford to stop, not now when I have tasted a bit of financial freedom. I also can’t afford to stop because there’s a danger in stopping, you might not be able to start moving again. Once you stop, you lose momentum, it’s hard to get it back. And yet I know I need to recalibrate.

    It was so much easier to dream and to work towards something when that’s all you had to think about…when earning a living wasn’t something you have to think about. In growing up, I got lost…my dreams scattered to the wind. It’s easy to say to someone, “How can you not know what you want?” but that shit happens. Sometimes you get so lost in your choices, in taking the options that you see available to you, you lose sight of what the heart wants. I am one of those people, I lost sight, and now I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going. Hopefully, I will, and maybe I can re-ignite the fire that once drove me.

    Choosing to be fiercely honest

    I suspect it takes patience with yourself and being willing to forgive your own confusion if confusion is a crime. This is the shortest blog post I have ever written and surely goes against best practices for blogging, but I’m tired of trying to do things perfectly. I’m tired of not embracing publicly acknowledged experimentation. Yes, I’ll declare that I’m experimenting, and I don’t care who sees the failed experiments anymore. I’ve been running my life like a series of experiments since I graduated, I might as well finally admit it. I’m not trying to pretend like I know everything anymore, or that I have it together, I don’t owe anyone that illusion. And if you’re in the same boat as I am, neither do you.

    Part of finding yourself involves being your own best friend, here’s why it matters: Learning to be best friends with yourself and why it matters.

    I’m Yvonne, I’m 24 and I’m still trying to figure things out, still finding myself. I refuse to be embarrassed about it, I refuse to pretend otherwise…the important thing for me is that I keep moving.

  • Why do birthdays in our 20s make us panic?

    Why do birthdays in our 20s make us panic?

    I’m 24 today (April 12th) and frankly, I wasn’t looking forward to my birthday at all. The spectre of reaching my mid-20s was hanging over my head, and I wasn’t anticipating making it official. Gone are the days when I could happily, and arrogantly say 22…because to me that’s the sweet spot. You’re so young you have all the time in the world to chase your dreams, at least that’s what I thought.

    So why does our age make us panic?

    Our expectations are too f*cking high

    So here’s the thing, there are so many reasons why some of us panic every time we realize we’re getting older, but I think our own expectations are the enemy. We tell ourselves that by a certain age we should have bought this, have that, and this long list of achievements.

    I remember in the year that I graduated setting deadlines for myself; buying myself a car and moving out into an entire apartment by the time I turn 23. When I realized I can’t do both simultaneously, I picked buying a car. Nevertheless, I was convinced that by 24 I’ll be killing it, living on my own, travelling everywhere, and basically just winning at life. I wanted to pursue a Masters a little after living a little! Now I’m 24, no car, no apartment, no masters. So when I realized my birthday was coming, I cried.

    I didn’t understand, at 22, why my older friends weren’t crazy about talking about their ages, but now I do. The much older adults don’t even really have the same expectations of us that we have of ourselves, mostly because they know how tough the survival game is here in Zimbabwe. It’s bound to take a little or a lot longer to reach certain milestones simply because conditions are extremely unfavourable.

    So what now? I don’t know, but I do know that I’m learning to cut myself a little slack and focus on things directly within my reach. I’m learning to give myself credit for the things that I’ve done, and that I’m doing right now. That mindset keeps me aware of where I’m still to go, but always happy with myself.

    READ: Why I quit my job, and why you shouldn’t.

    We compare ourselves to our parents

    I saw a thread on Twitter about this, and I hear it a lot from the older generation. They talk about Zimbabwe’s glory days and lament how different things are now compared to then. My mum graduated at 22, worked as a temporary teacher until she got a job at a bank at 23; got promoted to manager at 24 (youngest manager in the company); and bought her first house (with my dad) at 25. And they each had a car by then.

    I’m not a fan of blaming the economy for all my woes, but I will admit that the job market was a lot better then. Over the past years, hundreds of companies in Zimbabwe closed down. Registered, viable businesses. The companies that survived downsized and cut wages. The health sector all but collapsed. Positive thinking BS aside, this makes for a nightmarish environment. It shrinks the consumer market for business owners and destroys the job market for prospective employees. Everybody loses.

    Fast forward to 2019 and Zim is not much better. We can’t compare ourselves to our parents, we’re not living in the same economy that they did. It’s not to discount their handwork or diligence, it’s to highlight how incomparable the situations are. We are not our parents’ generation, and lamenting about it won’t do us any favours. Figuring out a way forward is the only thing that makes sense.

    We compare ourselves to the rich kids

    I have friends (to use the word loosely) who seem like they’re living the life. I say seem like because sometimes social media creates a false narrative that just stresses the rest of us out. Anyways, we’re peers, but our lifestyles are incredibly different. When you take a look at their backgrounds or who they’re dating you realize why. Background matters a lot more than people want to admit.

    When we can acknowledge the privileges that we have or lack of, it makes it easier to view your progress objectively. Some people have parents who can afford to give them a lump sum as starting capital; others will land higher paying jobs with the help of their parents’ connections; others stand to inherit considerable assets, and some are simply given assets as gifts. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s a privilege to be appreciated, but also taken note of.

    I have my own set of privileges that I enjoy, and I’m forever grateful to my mother for them, and by default, to all my grandparents for educating my parents. I am privileged, but I’m certainly not a rich kid and that’s okay. We forget that these inequalities exist when we’re piling pressure on ourselves. How can you not panic when you see pictures of your peer vacationing in Italy when you yourself have never been on a plane? It’s okay to have your own timeline of events, and I’m reminding myself of this often.

    We watch too many Americans films

    I think perhaps my expectations were also impacted by the literature I read and the films I watch. How can I not expect to make fast progress when I’m reading books about young people moving out of their parents’ houses straight out of high school? Why would I not have the same expectations of myself if all you needed to live comfortably was a steady job?

    Please note that my narratives mostly involve people who intend to join the workforce and not entrepreneurs or business owners because the majority of individuals seem to prefer employment versus other alternatives. I’m currently exploring other alternatives or unconventional employment, but that’s a story for another day.

    I love American movies and series as much as the next person, but I’m always cognizant of the differences in context. Whilst I really don’t believe in the American dream, I do think there’s a significant difference when it comes to opportunities and access to resources. It’s also why you really can’t compare yourself to peers living in the diaspora.

    Happily, 24

    Surprisingly, despite dreading the day another calendar year is added to my age, I woke up really happy on the day. Of course, I don’t doubt Bae’s contribution to all those joyous emotions, but the dread was gone. The pain of my failures, real or imagined, decided to let me have my day. Instead of feeling panicky, I found myself with renewed energy and determination to keep moving forward with my life, to keep fighting.

    READ: What’s really holding you back, honestly?

    Life doesn’t end at 30, we hear this said so often, and on a personal level, I’m conscious effort to remember that. Life ends when you die, and until then I’ll keep striving, fighting, being grateful and living in the moment. Getting older is not a testament of your failures, but rather of possibilities still to come.

  • Why I choose to remain hopeful in a continually hopeless situation

    Why I choose to remain hopeful in a continually hopeless situation

    “They stole our dreams; they stole our future.” A mantra I’ve heard repeated again and again. I never really understood it before. I wasn’t affected by it when I was in high school, closeted away in a boarding school, living in our own little world. At 19, in university, up until I graduated I still didn’t understand, because I had traded one bubble for another. Now, facing my 24th birthday I understand. I understand the frustration, I understand the bitterness, I understand the pain…but choose to remain hopeful.

    I had big dreams when I left college, I still do. My bigger picture hasn’t changed, but the smaller, crucial details have. I have tempered with, adjusted and re-adjusted my timelines on a quarterly basis, now down to a monthly basis. I heard the rumours about transport cost changes a day or two before. I laughed in disbelieve. I said to the housekeeper, “haaah it’s too soon, maybe they’re just rumours.” I didn’t want to believe it; I didn’t want to think of what it would mean.

    Fast forward to last night (the night of the announcement) and I was counting coins, trying to see how long they would last me. Barely a week. My friend’s
    birthday was on the 1st of January (she’s like a sister really) . We wanted to take her out, a simple lunch to celebrate her birthday and show her some love. She’s had the hardest time, among the three of us. We put it off because we couldn’t afford it. I counted my coins again, if I went for the Sunday birthday lunch, my bus fare wouldn’t last the week. So we re-scheduled, again.

    The pains of growing up

    Simple things I always thought I’d be able to afford as an income earner now seem like luxuries of the highest order. I read a tweet by this girl, she said Zimbabweans keep complaining yet they have all these luxuries, others have none at all. I find that logic vexing. Deep poverty doesn’t justify lesser poverty. Poverty is poverty. Should I be grateful that money that should afford me all the basic commodities I need now only covers one? Anyways I digress.

    One year four months after graduation I understand why so many Zimbabweans fled the country. Survival in Zimbabwe is like a game of… I don’t know. I don’t know any games that don’t have rules, or rather, the rule book changes before the ball hits the ground. It’s hard. I say this and yet I don’t personally have to face the half it. Raised in a middle-class household, (in good times probably upper middle-class), I’m somehow protected, but still aware of the struggle to acquire that lifestyle.

    I am one the fortunate ones; still living in my mother’s house (I’m so glad I didn’t move out when I wanted to!), I don’t have to worry about rent, or food, or utility bills. I contribute whenever I can, but nobody will starve if I don’t get paid. I have no dependents, and barely any black tax. But on most days it also feels like I have no future.

    A futureless life

    Most days it feels like I have no future. This feeling brings a dangerous emotion; an emotion I refuse to entertain.

    Hopelessness.

    This is the one thing I refuse to have stripped away. An ideal I have chosen to protect fiercely and tirelessly. I have learnt to protect it so well, when the president made his announcement, my guards were ready. They were ready to defend my fortress, and defend it they did. When they announced that import duty for cars will now be in forex, I had no fortress. My heart broke, and I cried. I’m sure the reason is pretty obvious. Another “luxury” goal shot right in the balls. This time though, I was prepared.

    See my reason for clinging to hope isn’t to do with faith in the government or the lack of it. I cling to hope for my sanity’s sake. Without hope, there is no reason to live. Without the promise of a future, there’s nothing to fight for, not much to live for. I don’t want to fall down that rabbit hole, it’s not an easy one to escape.

    I choose to hope because otherwise my life will be vain. My mother’s sacrifices and hard work to give me a fair chance at life would all be in vain. However way we proceed, I will get up to fight another day because the alternative is unfathomable. I have my reasons for not turning to immigration as yet, but maybe one day soon the time shall come when I’ll cast my eyes on the “easiest countries to migrate to for Zimbabweans.” I’m quite convinced if I Google that I’ll find it.

    Earphones are my new best friend

    I remember one day, a few weeks ago, coming from work (a part time job) a conversation was had in the shuttle. It was the standard one. How bad things had gotten in Zim, how expensive counter books were, and how sad it was for the young people joining the workforce. That’s where they got me. They talked about how hopeless it was for the younger generation, the driver went on to say how grateful he is, him and his wife decided not to have children after the last boy who was studying in China, with the older one working in Japan.

    My heart rate picked up, at some point I had stopped participating in the conversation. I could feel the anxiety starting to suffocate me, but I breathed through it. Absorbing people’s despair, internalizing it, making it your own, is a dangerous endeavor. I caught another ride for the leg home, this time it was a kombi. I’m pretty sure I cried on the way home. I didn’t eat that night. I decided to not participate in conversations like that anymore. At the risk of appearing rude, earphones have become my new best friend.

    I’m not burying my head in the sand, I know the situation at hand, I’m living that situation. However, if no one is airing any helpful solutions, I’d rather not listen. I choose to protect my sanity. I’ve cried silently in a kombi enough times.

    A future where I’m sane

    Living without hope is a brutal endeavour, one I don’t wish to undertake. Yes, I know things are bad, I’m not a fool, but I also know my personal reality could become a lot grimmer if I let them strip away my hope. See, over the course of the year I’ve learnt I need to play the game without rules somehow, and I’m fast learning how to.

    In December I moved into the gig economy because my career path demands it (plus the economic situation) so I held down a part time job that pays monthly and a freelancing gig that pays weekly. As I’m writing this, the trajectory has already changed, I no longer have a monthly flat fee salary contract; it’s now on a project by project basis. In some ways it’s better because for me the 8-5 was a brutal rat race. But it also means I will only eat what I kill (i.e. I can’t get paid for loafing around at work.) But that’s okay, I’m playing the game without rules.

    I choose to live with hope, that somehow I will navigate the murky waters of Zimbabwe’s economy. I choose to believe that I can play this game without rules and still score. I choose to believe in a future for myself, and my fellow Zimbabweans, however way we get it. Whichever way we choose to fight; I will not lose hope. They may have stolen our dreams, but they will not have my faith.

    I am angry but remain hopeful.

    A hopeful youth, Y.F.F
  • Achieving your goals by understanding the power of time

    Achieving your goals by understanding the power of time

    Have you ever tried to lose weight, or tried to turn a skinny unimpressive torso into a set of beautiful abs? In a really short space of time? (It usually doesn’t work that way.) Or better yet watched someone else try? So they’re eager and committed at first. Then the excitement fizzles out and they start complaining about how this stuff doesn’t work. (more…)

  • The sad truth about having ‘limitless time’

    The sad truth about having ‘limitless time’

    It’s exciting, thrilling even, to finish school and have all this delicious time to do with whatever you please. No more assignments. No tests, presentations, pesky morning lectures, and the grinding pressure to cram and pass exams, blissfully never to be borne again. But most importantly, that horrifying, relentless beast often politely referred to as (more…)