You are serious

I have often been told, "You are serious," since I was young.
It is often said with a sneer of exasperation or with a sigh.
In the past, when I was told this, I felt criticized and mocked. Being serious should be a wonderful thing, but every time I was told that, I felt a sense of guilt, as if I possessed a bad trait, and I would often feel depressed.
I wanted to resent my parents for raising me that way. However, I knew logically that I should be grateful for being raised as a person with the "strength" of being serious, and that resenting them was completely misguided, so I would blame myself for thinking that way every time.

When I was job hunting, I noticed that some companies considered my "seriousness" an important factor for hiring, while others did not value it much.
I felt that the more a company had a strong sense of crisis—that they must incorporate new ideas and change the way they operate or their very survival would be at risk—the less they valued my "seriousness."
On the other hand, companies that considered "trust" to be one of their selling points welcomed me very much and rated me very highly.
"You are very serious."
Every time I heard those words accompanied by a great sense of praise, I was bewildered by the gap in the companies' evaluations and could not understand it.
I suppose it means that back then, I had absolutely no confidence in the way I was.

Looking up "serious" in the dictionary,
1. Not a lie or a joke. Being earnest.
2. Having sincerity. Not cutting corners or deceiving.
(Shogakukan Shin-sen Kokugo Jiten, 9th printing)
It says.
I think the reason I used to feel inferior when told "you are serious" was because I had arbitrarily interpreted the first definition, "not a joke," as "not understanding a joke."

Exchanges made with fast-paced, lighthearted words sometimes do not require serious deliberation. People who share similar sensibilities move forward while giving each other a silent trust that the other person is serious to a certain extent.
Simply put, the conversation is quick. It is intuitive. The expression "crisp," which describes lightness, fits perfectly.
However, my "seriousness" is slow to act.
I wish I could be serious and crisp, but unfortunately, that is not my nature.
Every time I am asked for an answer, I verify one by one whether "this is truly the correct answer," worry and worry, and finally return it to the other person.
Depending on the person, the time spent waiting for this response is not pleasant. They get irritated and want to sigh. They want to complain that there is a limit to being cautious and that I should be flexible at the right time.
Eventually, they end up exasperated, saying, "That person is just serious."

The moment I thought it might be okay for me to have confidence in my "seriousness" was a remark from my mentor.
I have written about this in an article before, so I will omit the details, but
"Being honest and serious is the greatest talent of all. So you will be fine."
I believed that these words came from the depths of their heart, as I felt no scent of lies or flattery.
Until then, I had often felt self-conscious about being serious, but with these words, I think I was finally able to be proud of my seriousness.
I think I was over forty, but it left an impression on me because I felt that even though I was bewildered, it was okay to be happy.

Since then, I have been told "you are serious" many times in various scenes.
Gradually, I became able to accept it honestly as "this is my strength."
There were many times when it was not necessarily meant as a compliment, but I think I realized that it was just how that person felt about my "seriousness," and it had nothing to do with the way I am as a person.

Now, no matter how it is said, I do not feel like demeaning my "seriousness."
A quiet confidence that I am a "serious" person always supports me.
I am sure it will be like that forever.