Insecurities

I was recently told that I was fake. After the tears stopped pouring out of my eyes from sheer laughter, I wiped off my face & thought hard about what that actually means. I feel like I'm pretty open about how I feel - I've been told that you always know where you stand with me because you're bound to hear it flying out of my mouth.

I've been dealing with some difficult situations lately, difficult people, people who deal with insecurities. Oh, hi. That's everyone. If I've learned anything in the last 6 months, it's that it doesn't matter if you are scraping the bottom of the barrel or if you have everything you need in spades, sometimes you just have to suck it up & do it. We all have insecurities - some are out there for the whole world to see. Some are private & you pray the world never knows how deep they run. Maybe sometimes the key is to say those things out loud, whether very publicly or in the dimly lit room of your in laws' house. Some things I don't mind sharing; some things are too sensitive for many people to know. Some people aren't safe people for you to share with.

I bet if we all aired our dirty laundry, we'd find that we are all the exact same. That our houses usually look like a bomb went off, that we have oily skin under gobs of makeup, & that we all suffer from the same afflictions & insecurities, especially women. But who cares? None of us cares more about someone else's insecurities more than we care about our own. How devastating it would be for someone to know the most terrifying secrets about us. What if you said yours out loud? Would you feel better? Maybe. I have too many to list, but one big one? I have a sister & a sister-in-law who are beautiful. Prettier than me, & people tell me that. Tell me they can't believe how gorgeous my sister is & how they can't believe we're related. Ummm, thanks?! And they ARE pretty. I'm happy to admit it. That's ok - it's ok that they are prettier. I had debilitating anxiety attacks for almost 10 years. My feet are a gargantuan size 10. I have lost 69lbs, & yet, I look in the mirror & I think "what if you lost a few more & were in the 120s?" And my fear of that? What if I lose the handful of pounds, hit the 120s & think "I could hit the teens..."

That last thought alone makes me pause & evaluate. It's never enough. No matter what weight I am, I'll always want to be smaller. No matter how great I feel about myself, someone will always be prettier than me. But who the heck cares? I'm not supposed to be anyone else. I'm supposed to be me. Foul-mouthed, sarcastic, hilarious (if I do say so myself), loud, diarrhea-of-the-mouth, weird, hyper, sometimes annoying me. I watch women struggle with trying to be something different, something more, yet, we aren't supposed to be. We're supposed to be exactly where God placed us, at this specific time in our life, with the people who are surrounding us, doing exactly what we are equipped to do. Nothing more.

How's that for fake?

What's your biggest insecurity? You nuts enough to share it?

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