So many children grow up with a security blanket. Full disclosure – I didn’t have a security blanket. I had a security pillow, and its name was, “Mine.”
Mine and I went everywhere. There are many, many photos of Mine and Me. One of my earliest traumatic memories (as opposed to good memories) is setting Mine down while I was in the hardware store with my dad to look at the hand saws. Easily distracted (this has not changed), I was called away and when I remembered that I no longer had Mine with me, we headed back to the aisle with the saws and Mine was gone. Forever gone.
Insert one distressed parent and one really distressed child. I’m pretty sure Mine was distressed, too.
Thankfully, at that time in my life, I had a great security net. That net’s name was “Mom,” and Mom had figured out that Mine was prone to getting lost, therefore, she had a backup supply of homemade Mines hidden in her closet (there is another story about that for another time). In this instance, Mom came to the rescue, Mine was “found” and I was happy once again.
Years later, I outgrew Mine. Part of me still wishes that I had Mine, but alas, there is no Mine around any longer. No safety pillow around which I can wrap my arms, rest my head, or grab a duplicate of if I lose the present one. In a way, this is a good metaphor for growing older.
Today, I saw a tweet which I shared:
My comment when sharing the tweet?
“That one day Mr. Muse will decide that I’m not fun to be around AND I’m dumber than a box of rocks.
Neither is true, but, you know… insecurities.”
That’s the thing about insecurities… they aren’t logical. There is no rationale behind them. I’m a smart person, I know that I’m funny and Mr. Muse has TOLD me that he finds me funny. I also know I’m intelligent, not just because of my grades in school (Hooray for going back to school in middle age!), but because, I’m brilliant.
Yet, for all of that intelligence, insecurity is inescapable. We can be fun and intelligent people, and again, we still have issues with insecurity. It also seems like sharing our vulnerabilities causes others to want to refute them, beat them back for us and bare the truth to our eyes. But that doesn’t work.
Becoming secure is something only we can do for ourselves. In other words, the ability is mine, and mine alone.
What are your insecurities?