The insecurity blanket

Recently Amelia over at The Frisky wrote about giving up insecurity for Lent.  One of the commenters wrote that shouldn’t a sacrifice for Lent be something you like, such as chocolate, sex, or some other decadent indulgence.  I’d argue that in a sick way for some of us, insecurity is as indulgent as a carton of ice cream.

While insecurity feels terrible, in some ways it’s comforting. It’s that outfit we wear on our “fat” days. Those loose yet unflattering jeans.  That cozy ugly sweatshirt.  I’m fat anyway so I might as dress ugly!

Insecurity for me has been difficult to give up.  It’s easier to be insecure (I call it “shy”) and stay at home rather than put myself out there and meet new people.  I work myself into a tizzy about MB and other women because hey, it’s gonna happen sooner or later!  Who cares if MB loves me to death, wants me to have his babies, and has only been faithful?  Being stupid insecure and jealous is easier than being all OPEN and VULNERABLE and telling him how I feel!  Much safer to stew in the cozy juices of my low self-esteem rather than risk rejection.

And most of the time, that rejection is all in my own head. Or if it’s not, it’s not like I’m gonna DIE from rejection. Men go through it all the time. We women, in general, just aren’t used to it.

Insecurity has been my crutch for ages, and I love the idea of systematically giving it up.  I also love the specific steps Amelia lists, and which I have to remind myself of regularly, especially living in the moment, not stewing about an unhappiness (I’m the worst about that!), and telling myself to STFU when I start to spiral into a negativity nebula.

But chocolate?  No way I’m giving that up.

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