But like... can we be real for a sec?

Full transparency: This lovely picture makes me feel insecure.

I popped onto Instagram a couple of weeks ago for my weekly 30-minute catch-up session and was almost instantly annoyed. I felt vulnerable, undesirable, and insignificant. I sat at home feeling less-than-thrilled with my current life circumstances while simultaneously scrolling past poolside body shots and perfectly posed (dare I say, staged?) posts of people seemingly “living their best lives.” I wanted nothing more at that moment than to feel validated. But isn’t that the whole point? We’ve come to rely so heavily on external validation that we curate our public personas to receive it. We’ve lost the ability to trust our own perceptions of ourselves. 

Since then, I have twice repeated my weekly routine of briefly touching base with my social platforms and have intentionally searched for truth – longing for someone to be real, for someone who’s goal wasn’t to build their brand but to be an authentic, vulnerable, human. I don’t know about you, but I need that far more than I need a bikini-clad picture of someone on the beach with the caption: “Thinking of tacos.” 

I didn’t find what I was looking for. And that frustrated me. I thought to myself: “Is anyone willing to be real? Or are we instead choosing to blindly co-sign this fake reality?” I know I’ve talked a lot about social media on here, but I think it’s important. In the past seven months of re-engaging with the tangible world and putting the virtual world in its place, I’ve noticed just how much social media has shaped how I perceive myself and others. 

Today I’m going to do something that I wish more people did in my life. I’m going to be sharing some of my insecurities with you. I don’t care to be perceived as someone who’s perfectly confident or who has all of her stuff together anymore. I don’t care to concern myself with cancel culture so much that I fail to think critically or process honestly with others. I don’t care to try to make myself the most acceptable to the largest number of people.

I want to be fully me. And I don’t just want to say it as if I’m waving some inspirational flag. I want to live it. It’s an incredibly hard thing to do because, like you, I have fears that if people knew the real me, they wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore. If people knew me in all of my fullness, I’d no longer be of interest to them. Getting to this place of owning who I am and being the same person whether I’m at home alone or in a crowded room full of people that intimidate me has been and will continue to be a long and challenging process.

 Will you please help hold me accountable to it though? I’d be happy to do the same for you. 

Quick pause before I dive deeper into this conversation: I want to clarify by saying that I do not have anything against people sharing their happy moments publicly. I am such an advocate for optimism and joy and believe that we should all have way more fun than we do. I think being child-like is a beautiful thing and that amazing things happen when we open our eyes to the gifts we have right in front of us. So, if you are soaking in a lovely day by the pool and want to bring others into your gratitude, do your thing. 

However, what I do have a problem with is dishonesty or misrepresentation. I also have a problem with reinforcing shallow social norms and setting perfection (whatever that is) as the standard for everyone else to live by. That feels damaging to me. That has been damaging for me. And that is why I want to share a voice that maybe sounds different than what you might hear online. So, here I am. About to share some of my most significant insecurities with the world (and by the world, I mean the small and wonderful audience that I have on this blog – my world). 

I’ll start simply. I’m insecure about my body. Most people in my life know me as someone who has a really healthy, balanced body image. And a lot of the time, that’s true. However, I’m a human and there are many mornings when I wake up and don’t feel great about myself. I get insecure about my neck because I have a forward head posture that causes a small bump at its base. I’ve been working on my posture recently, but I don’t want the motivating factor to be appearances. I’m insecure about the fact that at most angles, I have a double chin and that at any angle, I have a weak chin. I’m insecure about how my resting face doesn’t always look that inviting and how sometimes my eye sockets look almost hollow because of their depth. I’m insecure about looking too young. I’m insecure about my stomach, particularly when I’m wearing high-waisted jeans and then sit down and have a nice roll covering my thighs. I’m insecure about my nails because their shape is weird and my cuticles are frequently unkempt. I’m insecure about the holes and red and purple marks that my medical devices have stained my body with. I’m insecure about my devices themselves because they make any outfit look bulkier than I would prefer. I worry, in my most unhealthy place, that nobody will ever find me attractive.

I also feel vulnerable and insecure when discussing my life path at times, particularly among people who have chosen a different path. I’ve continued to live at home and share cars with my parents throughout college and will likely continue to do so at least for the short-term while I save up enough money to wisely invest in my future. My mom encouraged me recently by saying that she’s not sure why everyone else is so impatient, often running into their own challenges by being so quick to get away from home. And though logically and given the intimate knowledge I have of myself and my goals, I know I’m making the best decisions for me, I still can’t help but compare myself to those who have already spread their wings so to speak. I worry about how they will perceive me. Perhaps as someone who’s sheltered or too confined to her comfort zone or unambitious or afraid of what comes next or financially irresponsible or even more concisely, uncool or immature. I know that if they knew me, really knew me, they’d think differently but I give voice to my insecurities by imagining that those on the fringe of my world think these things about me. 

I’m insecure about my dreams. I worry that people think I’m impractical, lofty, or not grounded in reality. I worry that there’s a sense that I don’t think realistically or thoroughly and that I’m too much of an idealist. I’m insecure that my dreams won’t come true and that I’ll be left feeling discontent, disappointed, and ashamed that I’ve failed. I also get insecure about the timeline of my dreams. Because I long for more, I worry that I’m not doing enough right now or that I’ve somehow missed out or wasted time. 

I’m insecure about my personality. I’m insecure that people in various contexts of my life fail to recognize my depth by instead writing me off as “amusing.” I fear that I’m too harsh or too stubborn or too complicated or too opinionated or too controlling or too bold or that I have too big of a personality. I worry that I’m simply too much. I worry that I won’t find a future partner because nobody will know what to do with me. I’m insecure that because I’m frequently similar enough to people to get along but different enough to prevent deep relationships that I’ll always struggle to find my people.

On that note, I’m insecure about my romantic relationship experience and how others perceive me because of it. I worry that because I’ve never dated or been in love that people will again take that as a sign of immaturity or undesirability. Little do they know the complex web of circumstances that have prepared me for future relationships in more ways than I can count and that my concern has always been with first loving and investing in myself. Nonetheless, I fear that everyone else’s path to finding their spouse will give them a sense of permission to judge my own approach. I have already faced some of this resistance and it is exhausting and pathetic. Who’s to say there’s only one path? Yet, I frequently give these voices, both internal and external, more weight than I should. 

I’m insecure about my politics and the reasons why I believe the things that I do, recognizing the harsh and divisive climate we both live in and contribute to. I feel that people in this country generally are so focused on buzzword politics, that they fail to try and understand why people believe what they do. I’ll be transparent with this and use abortion as an example. I believe that abortion should be legal because people are going to get abortions no matter what and it’s better that they are safe so that more lives can be saved. I also believe in providing support and aftercare to the women who have made that choice. However, morally I don’t agree with it. But that balance doesn’t make sense to people – they don’t understand how I can support a policy without fully aligning with the moral implications while also having compassion without judgment for those who still make that choice. I’ve long held that abortion isn’t really the issue. It’s all of the potential for preventive work that leads up to it so that people aren’t put in that incredibly difficult position in the first place. But people who are all-or-nothing in nature tend not to like that response. I worry that I’m not liberal enough for liberals and far too liberal for anyone who would identify as conservative. And I feel that as a Christian, I will continue to be hard-pressed to find people who think similarly. 

We all have these lists of insecurities. I’m not alone in that. Perhaps you noticed, as I did, that the underlying theme of many if not all of these is comparison. That’s why I wanted to be vulnerable in sharing these things with you because if we never talk about it, then the power these beliefs hold will only build, eventually consuming us. If we never talk about it, how can we move through it? How can we connect with and empathize with each other? How are we supposed to feel seen and represented? I don’t want to contribute to fake or misleading portrayals of myself online or in-person. As the saying goes, I would rather people hate me for who I am than love me for who I am not. Yet this, my friends, is easier said than done. 

I long for honest, non-judgmental conversation, and if I can be one small factor in that then game on. I also long for being able to own insecurities without people feeling the need to lecture me with self-help mantras or boisterous encouragement, however well-intentioned they may be. I’m actually okay. I’m incredibly grateful that my insecurities do not compromise my integrity. They do not steer me away from doing the things that I want to do. I’m fortunate that I know when my mind is lying to me. I don’t need others to point it out. I could sit here and genuinely re-frame all of these insecurities and also share the things that I truly love about myself. I could tell you how proud I am of myself. Maybe someday I will on this blog, but in this moment, I think it’s more powerful to directly name these lies that make me feel exposed and unsafe and embarrassed as a way to slowly lessen their power. As a way to bring some realness into the world. As a way to connect with you all through that.

My blog is titled, “She Lives Freely.” The title isn’t a description of me. It's a description of who I want to be. I'm not perfect, but I desire freedom for my life. I desire freedom for your life. To get there, we have some emotional work to do, don’t we?

I hope you got something out of this, and if not, I appreciate you reading anyway. As always, this conversation begins here, but it continues offline. Don’t hesitate to reach out. 

Xo