Let's just break down that stereotype right now, shall we? Great. Thanks.
In that one day that I went from nineteen to twenty, I didn't suddenly feel like all my insecurities melted away and like I could pound through the lobby of my dorm with the glow of a new women. November 13th wasn't that miraculous. It was a great birthday, but nothing happened. Other than a great dinner with friends, that is.
My point is that I had been deluded into thinking that being twenty would take away all my insecurities and that I would be 100% confident in who I am. I guess I can thank modern society for that little fantasy.
But what I learned from that (rather unfortunate) lesson is some wisdom and a reminder of the same thing I've been hearing my whole life: in every milestone, I think that those who were there before me were so much more... (fill in the blank). When I was in elementary school, I thought middle school was going to rock (it was actually the worst 3 years of my life, but that's irrelevant). When I was an eighth grader, all I wanted was to be in high school. High schoolers were smart and cool and pretty and had life all together. They don't. Speaking from four years of experience. And from day one of my senior year at CHS, I was dreaming of college. College students were amazing. They had their lives perfectly planned out. They were so cool, to sound corny. They were living the good life and had it all together. So I thought twenty-something-year-old people were infinitely more mature.
No. Wrong.
Turns out, everyone has issues with insecurities, whether you're a sixth grader without a lunch table or a college student feeling like you're completely invisible in a sea of 50,000 students. I know because I've experienced both. That dark thought of "I'm not enough" has been on my mind for too long. I thought it would change at every stage of my life and it hasn't. There's always something that I'm trying to achieve that's just out of my reach. Sometimes there's an adjective that goes between "not" and "enough". Pretty, smart, funny, charming, talkative, quiet, coordinated, athletic. All of those and more. And I've always thought it would change. But it hasn't and I've never known why.
Until now.
Now I know that it's me.
I've been clutching my insecurities like a lifejacket since I was twelve years old. They were constant and I knew how to hide them from everyone except for the people who knew me the best. No one who I didn't want to know didn't have to know. The issue was that while most of me was growing up and learning, I kept my fears and worries close until they became normal. I still don't know what to do with myself when I'm not feeling insecure because they've always been there. It's a new feeling to not be concerned with saying the wrong thing or worried that I'm going to knock something over and make a fool out of myself. Thankfully, I've let go of some of them.
But it's been a hard process. I give pieces of my heart away too easily. I wear it on my sleeve. I get emotionally invested quickly and have a hard time pulling out and letting go. Change scares me; that's why I've held onto things that hurt because it's the same all the time.
I'm getting better about being freer. I laugh when I trip and stumble over my words. I be the Linley that I want to be around people I don't know instead of trying to impress them. One of my best friends is accurately described as "genuine" and she's, thankfully, rubbing off on me at least a little bit.
I'm made in the image of a perfect God, flawless and beautiful, meant to be pursued and to have an enormous capacity for love. I know that. Now to embrace it.
Turns out, everyone has issues with insecurities, whether you're a sixth grader without a lunch table or a college student feeling like you're completely invisible in a sea of 50,000 students. I know because I've experienced both. That dark thought of "I'm not enough" has been on my mind for too long. I thought it would change at every stage of my life and it hasn't. There's always something that I'm trying to achieve that's just out of my reach. Sometimes there's an adjective that goes between "not" and "enough". Pretty, smart, funny, charming, talkative, quiet, coordinated, athletic. All of those and more. And I've always thought it would change. But it hasn't and I've never known why.
Until now.
Now I know that it's me.
I've been clutching my insecurities like a lifejacket since I was twelve years old. They were constant and I knew how to hide them from everyone except for the people who knew me the best. No one who I didn't want to know didn't have to know. The issue was that while most of me was growing up and learning, I kept my fears and worries close until they became normal. I still don't know what to do with myself when I'm not feeling insecure because they've always been there. It's a new feeling to not be concerned with saying the wrong thing or worried that I'm going to knock something over and make a fool out of myself. Thankfully, I've let go of some of them.
But it's been a hard process. I give pieces of my heart away too easily. I wear it on my sleeve. I get emotionally invested quickly and have a hard time pulling out and letting go. Change scares me; that's why I've held onto things that hurt because it's the same all the time.
I'm getting better about being freer. I laugh when I trip and stumble over my words. I be the Linley that I want to be around people I don't know instead of trying to impress them. One of my best friends is accurately described as "genuine" and she's, thankfully, rubbing off on me at least a little bit.
I'm made in the image of a perfect God, flawless and beautiful, meant to be pursued and to have an enormous capacity for love. I know that. Now to embrace it.
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