Most of the time, I walk around feeling confident, tired, irritated, strong. All these emotions cover my thirty-three year old self. I’m a mother, a wife, and a million other roles, almost all at the same time. Insecurity isn’t something I have time for most days.

Sometimes, though, it seeks me out. It finds me when I least expect it. And it brings me to my knees.

I can recall very insecure times in my life. These times are something I don’t dwell on, don’t want to relive. It’s part (or all) of why I left facebook. There are relationships I’ve moved on from that I don’t need to invite back. I’ve grown. I’m not the same person I was in high school, in college, in church. I’m much happier with where I stand today and where my life is. I’m pleased with the decisions, over all, and my marriage is a good, strong pillar in my life. My kids, my career, my friends: All these things I value and hold dear in living as the person I am today, not twenty years ago.


So why can something from ten years ago kick me down in one fell swoop? I. Do. Not. Know.

After dinner with some of my college friends the other night, we laughed about how silly we were at 21. So young! So insecure! So. .. So.. stupid.

We’re all happy now, with families and jobs and lives and friends. We stay in touch. We were together, best friends, during some of the most awkward times of life and it’s easy to be friends in the secure times.

Not everyone in my life is the same.


I realized I never truly tackled my insecure side. I simply pushed it down, down, down until I could tell myself she was gone. She comes out about once a month and I blame hormones and sleep deprivation for my weakness. But she’s always there. Hiding. Lurking. Waiting. And when she comes out, mocking at my confidence, I feel so sheepish, so weak, easily afraid.

Up until this moment, I’ve hated her and wished her death. I wanted to never deal with her, to never face her. Today, however, I’ve decided to welcome her in to my conscience. She’s a path to understanding. Should I not have her at all, I would not relate to my daughter as she enters the Awkward Years. I would not understand her social fears. I could not empathize with her tears.

So today, I celebrate the woman I am now: Business Owner, Lover, Mother, Friend. But I hold my insecure side by the hand accepting she’s still there. She’s shaking in her boots, terrified of how good life is. Afraid for The Shoe To Drop. She’s wondering how everything got so great.

And it’s ok. I can’t explain it either. Hopefully one day she’ll accept that life really is great. And that will be the day I let her go for good.

Coming Up