When I feel insecure, all I want to do is reach inside myself and rip out that burning feeling. I hate myself. I wish to be happy. I blame. I run. I point my finger at those I feel caused the insecurity and lash out at them.
You made me feel this way. How could you do that?
Silence becomes my best friend. I master keeping a calm, collected facade while my insides crumble like the Berlin Wall.
Nothing is easier to bottle than insecurity. And it keeps forever.
How do I defeat these evil, wretched insecurities? Hint: Name calling doesn’t do shit. I’ve called my insecurities all of the worst things in the book, and they respond with the chorus of ‘Just the Two of Us’. I have snarky insecurities.
Cue: My voice.
If there’s anything your insecurities hate, it’s when you talk about them. They’re that gossipy, insecure friend who is shocked into silence when you call them out.
When I keep my insecurities to myself, they live inside of me. A potential army of insecurities vs me. I am alone.
When I put words to my insecurities, it’s as if they are extracted — a tangled, teeming mass of junk that I’ve splayed out onto the table. With the ugliness exposed, I am no longer alone in my fight. I have allies. If I know anything about myself, it’s that I feel 20x more powerful when someone has my back. If I’ve learned anything in the last 2 years, it’s that I don’t have to go it alone, I can reach out and ask for help.
The journey to owning my story and embracing authenticity hasn’t been easy. Sometimes it’s fucking hard. It can be scary to be across from someone and be sad
and not hide it. To say to them, with or without words, ‘I am sad. I am choosing to own that and not laugh it off, or fake a smile, or numb, or self-medicate. I am more than all the good things like kindness, happiness, and humor. I am all things. I feel all things. Because I’m a human being.’