At the end of the test a box appeared that declared I had “high confidence”.
I could have told you that, test! I disdained, and then laughed, because really, there’s my answer right there.
I know myself. I’m sassy. I just kind of do things because I know that I will do them well and they’ll pretty much work out. This doesn’t go over so well for me when it involves a hammer and picture hanging. No joke, Chris came home once and I greeted him at the door with this line :
I made a hole in the wall… it’s a little bit big.
Well, I made a lot of holes in the wall because I was sure I could hang this damned shelf. I was wrong. I know now that I shouldn’t be in charge of hanging things unless there is easily removable wall velcro involved. Voila! No holes!
The older I get the less patience I have for self-doubt… both mine and yours. I’d rather swing a hammer and see what happens than sit back and think I can’t do something. This whole attitude has helped me develop a view on life where I think: I want to go to POINT A. And then I do things that will pretty much get me there. Sometimes these things don’t go as planned and I think: THIS WILL WORK OUT IT WILL BE FINE JUST KEEP DOING YOUR THING. And, usually– naw, I’m going to say almost always– things work out the way I planned/wanted them to.
For all the reasons listed above, I just don’t understand the kind of insecurity that bleeds into someone’s life so much that I can pinpoint it when they walk into the room. This is probably because, since the time I was 5, I just did whatever the hell I wanted to because I knew what was best for me. All of this may make me sound callous, but I don’t mean it to. If you were to meet me beyond the screen you’d see I’m a terribly blunt, call-it-like-it-is, pulls no punches kind of gal. I’m also stubborn and it’s a huge strength and, lately, a flaw as well.
I’ve really struggled this year to find some understanding, compassion, patience, <insert more positive actions here> for people who are highly insecure. Frankly, I’ve come out the other side of this struggle exhausted. I just don’t get it when someone isn’t comfortable in their own skin, when grown adults wear their insecurities like a coat and it seeps into everything that they do.
I’m going to admit something less than perfect here: there have been times in my life when I have spotted insecurity in someone and immediately lost respect for them. I don’t like weakness. I don’t have the time or patience for it.
I know. It sounds bad. It might be. I can let it be. I try not to. I also don’t think that I should have to put up with someone else’s baggage, especially if they aren’t a friend or family member. I have found that I have no empathy for someone who wastes my time because they are not secure in themselves. I am not a therapist, a best friend, a sister. I do not owe you the luxury of endorsing your insecurity. This may make me out to be a bad person, and if you think that, frankly, I don’t care (see, there’s that sassy thing again), because the best advice I have ever received was this:
The greatest luxury in life is being able to choose your friends.
Yes, yes, yes. What a freedom there is in that choice. I choose to surround myself with people who make me laugh, who are confident in themselves, so much so that they are unapologetically them. I have made these choices unconsciously, but with 100% accuracy every. damn. time. And this year, when railroaded by someone’s (remember: not a friend, not a family member) inability to believe in them self, I just became beyond frustrated and angry that I had to deal with the ramifications of their insecurity.
See? Flaws. I have them. I’m not so assured in myself that I can’t admit to them. And this one is apparently huge, because I asked for a partial work transfer just to get away from someone else’s bleeding insecurity because I couldn’t stand it, it was suffocating me.
I don’t have an answer for someone who wants to have friends, who wants to know how to wear funky on trend- clothes, who wants to get invited to happy hours, and be included in the team, have the most facebook friends, feel good when you look in the mirror, be ok with all the stuff those terrible people in your terrible high school said to you. I don’t know how you figure out your life so that you are happy and confident. I don’t know, I don’t, I really don’t. I’m just as unsure about how to be more compassionate to someone who drives me insane because they can’t figure this exact thing out.
However you do it, you have to eventually be ok with you fat, skinny, pretty, mean, nice, blunt, on-trend, sad, insecure, whatever. At the end of the day always, always, always be ok with yourself no matter what the world is telling you.
Everything else, holes in walls included, won’t matter at all.