Insecurities like to run rampant in me.
Am I good enough? Will 'so-and-so' like me? Will what I write actually sound intellectual? Will it even be well-written? What about my singing voice? Am I even good, or are my parents just telling me that to build me up? This shirt doesn't really look good, does it? What if they laugh? I can't tell my story; nobody will care. My haircut is horrible; maybe I should wear it a different way. But why? It's still not going to look good.
These types of questions have haunted me for most of my life. Growing up, I was the outgoing and extroverted child who wanted to know everything there was to know about the world. I wanted to meet everyone, hear their story, and learn from them. I wanted to go everywhere, do everything, see everything. But growing up with this type of curiosity made me an outsider. It wasn't the "norm". Most people in my little town were happy just getting to know their backyard, if that. Who cared about the yard, or the kid, or the dog across the street?
Me, that's who.
Being different in today's society is something that's considered 'brave', 'noble', or even 'cool'. Not when I was growing up. It was simply 'different'. And we all know different can't possibly be good.
The younger me, who enjoyed learning everything, slowly became an introvert with a small group of friends, who preferred books to people. The curiosity inside me never died; I simply refused to put it on display. Instead, I turned to writing, reading, painting, dreaming, singing, and acting. Those last two were only displayed whenever I knew nobody I knew would be present.
But even then, insecurities would eat me up. I may not have known anyone in the crowd, but I was so sure somebody out there was critiquing my singing or acting abilities. I refused to put my writing online for the longest time, because I quickly learned that people are more confident and brash when they're hiding behind a keyboard and a made-up domain name.
Growing up, I was bullied. As far as I knew, nobody knew; I only just recently told my parents about it. I didn't want anybody to know, but I'm sure that my friends and family could slowly see the light dying within me. My thirst to know about everything around me slowly changed until I preferred staying in my room, reading a book, writing a story (which I always hid so nobody would read it), or attempting to draw. I stopped exploring outside. I still lusted to travel, but I didn't really acknowledge it - pretending to be happy just looking at pictures of far-away places, instead of actually planning to go there.
Don't get me wrong -- wanderlust and curiosity are not bad; in fact, I think they're wonderful! But they made me different than the other kids. As I said before, most of them were more concerned with who they were dating or the party on the weekend than where they could travel, what they could do, or who they could be. Many of them were content with graduating high school and.... that's it. They weren't looking forward to the future.
I couldn't wait to get out of high school. I hated it there, mostly because, as I mentioned before, I was bullied incessantly. It was almost a daily thing; I could count on it almost as sure as the sun would rise. But it was also because I had huge dreams I wanted to accomplish. My issue was -- I had even bigger insecurities.
The plans I had for my life were astronomical. They weren't possible for someone like me. Clearly, I needed to come up with something more low-key for my life, because who would really believe that I could do all the things I wanted? I couldn't travel everywhere; I couldn't become a best-selling author; I couldn't be a famous actor; I wouldn't see my name in bright lights or on the cover of a book. Those were impossibilities, and I definitely needed to rethink about my future.
Right?
Sadly, the insecure, introverted boy I had become believed all of that. But, they were all lies -- lies told to me from my classmates, from teachers, from people I had naively called friends, from family, and even from myself. They say that we are our own biggest critic, and I'd have to agree. I critiqued (and still do) myself way too harshly, and many times I believe the critiques, despite the evidence right in front of me.
No, I'm not a famous actor. I don't have a best-selling book. I don't travel everywhere. I've never seen my name in lights.
But, after years of lies, I have finally found the truth. If I really wanted any of those things (which, yes, I want some, but not all of those), nobody is stopping me, except myself. It's a daily battle to fight the insecurities inside and keep them silent. Even now, as I write this blog post, insecurity is creeping in, asking if anybody actually cares enough to read it. But, I have to remember that it doesn't matter if nobody reads this. The fact stays the same that whether people read it or not, my insecurities do not define me. I am more than my self-doubt.
I am currently working on a manuscript that will hopefully become a published novel. I'd love to see my name on the cover of a book when I go into my favorite bookstore. I no longer have a desire to be an actor, but am planning on eventually getting back into community theatre. You see, though I have insecurities and deal with them constantly, I am learning not to listen to them; instead, I am listening to what I want for my life and believing that I am good enough to do anything. No longer do I listen to what others tell me I am, or what they think I can or can't accomplish. They don't have any say in what I decide to do, who I am, or what I can achieve.
Insecurities are usually based on things that are ingrained in us from childhood; I know mine definitely are. But, we cannot allow them to rule our lives, or else we will eventually find that we are dead inside, comparing ourselves to people who most likely don't even think about us.
Instead, we need to explore the world, learn everything we can, and go out of our way to make sure that nobody we come in contact with feels insecure because of us. And if they already do, remedy it. If they feel insecure because of somebody else, remind them that they are important. Their dreams do matter. They matter. They can do or be anything they want, despite what the world says about them.
Dream big. Remember that you're more than what others think of you. Decide that your life is yours, not theirs, and they no longer have a handle on directing it. Realize that you are made for wondrous things, whether you know what those are or not. Nobody can tell you who you are, except for you. Don't let others voices drown out your own.
Speak out, live life, and encourage others. Be weird. Be outgoing. Be different.
Be you.
Because, if you don't, then who will?
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