Confessions of the Insecure

I need to confess my insecurities.

Sometimes I just reach a point where my insecurity exhausts me so much that I just stop caring about being vulnerable. I stop caring about being strong. I’m too tired to keep trying to do anything. I exhaust myself emotionally until eventually I reset myself and start over.

That part leading up to this point is misery. I am up and down; justifying my feelings, I cry a little; I question everything. I second guess my relationships, my job, my life. I wonder how I can feel so broken, and yet continue on, comparing myself to my past selves, trying to gauge if I’ve made any progress at all — If I’m any closer to becoming the person I choose to be.

It’s too much thinking. Too much analyzing. I need to remind myself to just be and yet the feelings remain, just begging me to wrestle with them.

To expand: My parents passed on at a relatively early age. I have no siblings, an no other family that I’m remotely close to. The cousin I talk to the most lives in Australia … so far away that it’s not even the same day when we talk to each other. We’ve never even met in person. Less than four years ago, I didn’t even know he was alive. Everyone else I’m related to lives in another country. I don’t have children. And it feels like it’s been eons, waiting on my divorce to become final. I often feel completely alone. I was very close to my mother. She was my best friend — we talked almost every day, and I drove the 300 miles to my parent’s house as often as possible. I took friends with me to visit; my parent’s home was always a comforting place; it was my refuge in the desert. And so quickly, she was ripped from my life. Cancer stole her from me a mere four months after her diagnosis. I saw her only a few times before she was overtaken by the disease. I would never wish this fate on my worst enemy. Cancer is a horrible beast. Treatments are difficult, and not always effective. Hands down, this was the hardest time of my life. I can’t even compare it to the time spent ending my marriage and moving on. Watching someone you love suffering leaves you feeling helpless in a way that is different than internal suffering. After ending my marriage, I spend a lot of time alone, wishing that life would just end, not having the stamina to follow through with it on my own; remembering that was my father’s choice, and thinking of how people would talk about us in the end. I knew I could get through the pain. I have suffered through many bouts of depression, and every single time I have come out on top. Sometimes this is the only way I know that things are going to be okay — because they always are.

Sometimes I need the magic of someone else telling me it will be okay. It really is magical. When someone I care for and respect tells me this, it’s gold. It brings me out of my head and back into the world — normal people think it’s alright … it must be! It’s grand.

So I believe I’ve perhaps been sidetracked. I was discussing my insecurities, and I’ll connect the dots now. Being alone — feeling alone, completely alone — can really contribute so much to my insecurity. I no longer have my parents in my life, telling me each and every day how much they love me. I live alone; there isn’t anyone to kiss me goodnight and say I love you before bed anymore. I wake up to an empty house. It feels alone. Not everyone finds this to be an issue, but this is new for me. I feel alone. I’m not used to it.

My mind wanders. I second guess everything. I have a wonderful boyfriend. He goes on a trip without me and all of sudden my mind is telling me that we’re growing apart. He doesn’t want to be with me as much as I want to be with him. I’m broken, I’m clingy, I’m insecure and need reassurance. He’ll send me a random text message and all is well again. A picture of something fun? It’s the end of the world. Another message and all is well again. Nothing changes on the outside — my head is just on a roller coaster. And in the end, it’s always okay. 

My boss often tells me what a great job I do at work. I don’t see it. I guess I’m doing alright; I feel like a slacker. I feel like my work is sub par. I feel like I’m just floating through, no matter how hard I try; and some days trying is the most difficult thing. Clearly, I am not seeing the world in the same light. Again, I’m broken. Up and down. But in the end, it’s always okay. 

Some other things that are not really true, but find their way into my thinking:

  1. I’m not attractive. My body is awkward and uncomfortable and I don’t know how to dress it.
  2. Relationships. I always think my friends are my friends out of pity. My boyfriend could leave me any day without warning.
  3. No one loves me. And if they say they do, it’s just to make me feel better.
  4. I’m not really all that smart. I am not that observant and I struggle to learn things.
  5. I’m not actually even good at anything. Everything I do is sub par.

So I continue on  … feeling okay, and feeling insecure, up and down for now. In the end it will be okay, I know this. This is fact. But today, I’ll just allow myself to sit with my feelings, to get through them, and to know I’ll feel better soon.

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