My Insecurities
Photo by Fleur
6/25/18
I’m sick of pretending like my insecurities aren’t an issue or aren’t real.
I’ll try to play it off like I’m the least insecure person on the planet when I very well could be the most.
I hate how women are taught to compare, conform, fit the same mold, wear the right things, have the right job, say the right thing at exactly the right time.
All while not eating carbs or sugars.
All while battling this unbearable weight of pressure that’s just pushing us and pushing us to be everything we’re not.
To shun our natural appearance and abandon our innate preferences.
To all look the same fucking way but still be unique.
To feel happy and grateful about the way this fucked up system works against us.
I can never be happy with it because it’s working directly against me.
Our society has given all of the confidence to the men.
How do I even begin to undo this systemic betrayal?
How do I find my way back to the confidence I felt when I was still learning who I was?
I wasn’t comparing myself.
I wasn’t fearful.
I was fearlessly myself, before the world got its hands on me.
I looked in the mirror and I didn’t scrutinize every molecule.
Scrapes and bumps and bruises didn’t bother me.
These learned insecurities don’t just begin and end in my mind.
They flow into every tangible aspect of my life.
My job. My relationships. My past and my future.
I won’t say what I really want to say.
Because I’ve become so afraid to be myself.
I have been too insecure to even admit to myself how terribly insecure I am.
I’m not sure I know how to function without these crippling fears and insecurities.
I’m not sure I’d be the same person.
But they need to be tackled and confronted and reversed.
I don’t think my life has been terribly hard but I think my insecurities have made me harder on myself.
They replaced the love and acceptance I had for myself with hate, disappointment, jealousy, and rejection.
