Insecurities

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Who would have thought that as an infant, you would grow up carrying deep insecurities that came from outside of you?

As children, we weren’t insecure. We didn’t care how other people were living their lives. We didn’t compare ourselves to others and decide we were somehow less than them. It’s crazy how life can slowly shape us into believing those things.

Somewhere along the way, we start believing that if we want to receive greatness, love, or acceptance, we have to change who we are to deserve it.

When did that happen for me?

I think it started with my parents. I began questioning my worth at an early age. I believed I had something to do with their moods. I thought I could control them, fix them, or somehow that it was my fault when things went wrong. I slowly formed the belief that I was the problem.

That became one of my core beliefs.

As I got older, I unknowingly placed myself in situations that recreated those same emotional wounds. Every relationship after my relationship with my parents became a reflection of those beliefs. I kept attracting experiences that triggered the same pain—not because I deserved it, but because that wound still needed my attention.

Healing isn’t comfortable.

The intensity of those emotions isn’t there to punish me. It’s there to remind me that something deeper is asking to be seen. I have to sit with those feelings long enough to understand them instead of running from them. That’s where healing begins.

When I started looking at my biggest heartbreaks, I realized something. Every heartbreak left behind an insecurity because I attached my worth to the experience. Instead of asking, “What is this teaching me?” I asked, “What is wrong with me?”

I based my value on how other people treated me.

I became so focused on everyone else that I lost sight of myself.

I convinced myself that anyone could come along and take everything from me because they were prettier than me, smarter than me, funnier than me, or somehow more worthy than me. Those comparisons became the voice in my head. I became my own biggest enemy.

I spoke to myself with words I would never say to someone I loved.

I attached painful experiences to my identity until I started believing those experiences defined who I was. That created self-hatred, and it became an exhausting cycle.

But now I understand something different.

What I was really searching for wasn’t validation from other people. It was love within myself.

People can disappoint me. People can leave. People can misunderstand me.

But I don’t have to abandon myself.

I can stay loyal to myself because I know my own heart. I know my morals. I know the kind of person I choose to be, even when life tries to convince me otherwise.

Maybe insecurities aren’t something we’re born with.

Maybe they’re something we collect when we mistake experiences for identity.

Experiences are meant to teach us, not define us. They come to reveal a lesson, invite growth, and then be released.

I don’t have to carry every painful experience as proof that I’m not enough.

I can let the experience be the lesson—and let myself remain worthy.