Insecurity

I am a huge Beth Moore fan. I've read all of her books, done many of her studies, and seen her in person several times. I was so excited to start her book, "So Long, Insecurity..."

Yes, insecurity is a problem for me. It's a HUGE problem for me. I've spent a lifetime worried what others think of me. Worried that I don't measure up somehow. Worried that I talk too much. Worried that I am doing something I have no business doing because obviously somebody else can do it much better than I can. Worried that someone doesn't like me. (Which if you think about it - is ridiculous - because do I like everybody?) Nonetheless, that's me. The worrier. Worried mostly that people will think I'm not worthy of their friendship or their effort or their time. Yes, I know what the Bible says about worrying. I worry about that too.

I hate going to parties. Big, crowded festive parties. Small, intimate quiet get togethers. Take your pick - doesn't matter. I hate them. Before attending any party, I take the pledge of silence. That's right. I said the pledge of silence. I promise myself that I am not going to talk at this function. That I will remain quiet and aloof allowing the other person to monopolize the conversation. Yet I get to the party, and before I know it, I feel an inflated obligation to run my mouth incessantly. God forbid I allow a moment of silence to lapse during a conversation. I feel utterly responsible for carrying on the constant banter. I hate parties. I hate them because in the end I go to bed that night and recount everything that I said and worry that I shouldn't have said it, completely convincing myself that I have ruined every possible relationship with my big mouth and that I need to call anyone that I spoke to the very next morning and apologize for whatever I may have said to offend them. I truly do this. I kid you not.

So today I am sitting in my local public library. It's time for my semi-annual homeschool review with the Board of Education. I am waiting my turn. I scan the room. There are about a dozen women with their children in tow, with their fancy boxes, bags, rolling cases and carts filled with files, books and colored codes file folders and matching labels. I look down at my feet and think about my old, giant canvas bag packed with all that I could fit and the rest that I had carried school-girl style resting on top. I should be more organized. I should invest in some fancy carrying case. I must look like a real rookie. These thoughts are swirling through my mind. Never mind the fact, that I have been successfully homeschooling for 8 years. No one has ever held my children back, or claimed that I am not meeting all necessary requirements. I have only ever been complemented and praised for my diligence and organization. I have homeschooled 4 children, teach dance classes in the evenings, and run the local wrestling team with my husband. I make spaghetti sauce from scratch. I throw unmatched birthday parties. I made a birthday cake that was a flipping working ferris wheel one handed with a baby on my hip. Yet, here I am feeling insecure about my stuffed canvas bag. I'm worried about what those women (whom I will never see again) think of me and I feel inadequate.

How does this happen? How is it that you meet people that are oozing self-confidence? Those are the ones that I tell people, "God gave them my share." How do I get that back? I want to be the person that when someone pays me a complement, I don't break into some long winded story about how I really did a terrible job and apologize for what it could have been if only I had, blah, blah, blah. I could just simply say, "Thank you."

What am I teaching my children? Do they hear me do this? Do they realize I do this? Of course they do. For example, take your typical Christmas dinner conversation.

"Shelley, everything is wonderful as usual."

"Well, I couldn't find the lettuce that I really wanted. I added too much port wine to the meat. The potatoes are definitely over salted and I shouldn't have taken the guy's suggestion at the liquor store."

I would never want them to repeat this behavior. It's made life complicated for me. I have recently been convicted of the "children will do what you do, not what you say" policy, so it is in the forefront of my mind. Will they rebel against my pathetic whining and decide they will never be like that? (You know, the old, when I grow up, I'm never going to complain about everything I do wrong, like Mom does.) Will they watch me carefully and believe that it is a testament to some warped humility of mine and deem it the right thing to do?

You are wondering where am I going with all of this? Here's the thing: the decision to begin this blog was a whirlwind of an idea. Nothing I really planned. It was a very whimsical choice. It was not anything that I spent anytime contemplating at all. It was an emotional reaction. In beginning Beth's book, I felt the urge to rebel against my insecurity. Throw caution to the wind and see where it took me. It was a Jerry Maguire choice! I'm 40 - it's time to put my big girl panties on! You know, have some Mary Tyler Moore moment. "Your gonna make it after all" was loudly ringing in my ears.

When I called my mother to discuss this blog, I had already sent her the link for her perusal. My mother has always loved my writing. She's been my most diligent encourager. I was certain I was about to be praised for brilliant creativity again. She was going to say all of those things that a mother is supposed to say when she fully supports her child. But her reaction was not what I had expected. She basically said that I shouldn't be blogging. She said I was blogging because I was looking for approval from people through my writing. She asked me if I was sure I was reading Beth's book and that maybe I'd better start over. I was disappointed in those words. What is she saying? I truly felt I had taken a giant leap of faith to put my writing out there and I was very pleased with myself for mustering the self confidence to do it. I had just broken out of my shell and smacked my insecurity right across its ugly face! This has nothing to do with an insecurity problem. In fact, it was obvious to me that this was an act of a fresh confidence emerging from me- an uprising of sorts. Frankly, I was looking forward to getting to know this person better. Mom was definitely wrong.

Days later, a friend who had read my blog, approached me to share that a local magazine was looking for "bloggers". She was very kind and encouraged me to apply as she praised my writing. While very busy in daily life with my kids, homeschooling and preparing for our annual recital, the idea haunted me. I wondered if doors were being opened for me. I pondered that perhaps I was on some new spiritual road that was not in my control at all. I felt like destiny was navigating the course of my life and after that brush with insecurity at the library today, I decided I would further investigate this "blogging" job. It all had to be related! It was time for that confident person cowering inside me to make another appearance and clearly this opportunity had been provided for a reason. I was convinced.

After reading about it, I quickly decided I would apply. I wrote my 250 words on why they should choose me and what in the world I would blabber on about and included a link to my last blog. I carefully chose my 250 words. I typed and typed. I was on a roll. The ideas were flowing. This was amazing. The adrenaline was pumping. The excitement of my new adventure was too much. Pouring over each and every word - my first attempt was 368 words - we all know how I like to talk. Parting with each of the unacceptable 118 words was torturous for me. Finally, I felt that I had said enough and before I knew it, I clicked "send" and away it went... (Have you ever noticed how easy it is to click that send button? - Well, that's another blog for another time...)

After the submission and still reeling from my new found maturity, I decided to visit my blog again. You know the one I had just sent to the magazine? I read it. I felt something gnawing at me so I read it again. I pushed away from the computer. I held my face in my hands. I thought about how all of this had worked out. Wasn't it amazing? Here after all of these years of wanting to write a book but never doing it I had started a blog, made one entry, had one friend say it was good and suggest that I apply as a magazine blogger and just like that - I did it. It had all happened so easily. It must be "fate". Right? Isn't that what had happened?

As I sat staring at that page, I felt sick. My palms were sweaty. My stomach a little queasy. I was flooded with emotion. Uh -oh. Mom was right. I started this blog because I wanted someone to tell me that it was okay for me to write. That I was good enough. That I would be acceptable. And someone did do that and because of that I applied for a writing position with a magazine. I countered myself - Now granted, I really do love to write. I truly want to tell my stories. But I never dreamed of writing a blog. I've dreamt of writing a book. I could feel the revelation swelling within me. The overwhelming truth was that I did not start this blog as an intention for me to burst forth with amazing confidence. It was actually my way of asking the world for permission to write a book, wasn't it? It was just another act of insecurity...camouflaged.

So yes, all of this did happen in a very grandiose sort of way. And I do believe that one thing led to the next that led to the next and on and on. It's just that I now understand that it wasn't so much about me becoming some well-received author and accomplishing some lifelong dream. It was more about confronting my insecurity and needing to be aware of the root of my motivations. It's funny how those things can be so deeply imbedded in us to make us completely blind to them. It's also funny, how a mother can know her child better than that child knows her at 40 years old. In the long run this is a much more profound awakening than I could have hoped for. Something that will take me on a much greater journey, preparing me for a much grander life than what I was imagining.

We'll have to see what happens with the magazine position. The good news is that I have decided to continue blogging because I do enjoy it. If the magazine rejects me, it's okay. If you reject me, it's okay. It's not about approval. It can't be. My kids deserve better than that. I won't be sitting up tonight thinking I should erase this blog in the morning. I won't be running out to buy a fancy dolly to transport my color-coded file folders to the next review. I may even go to the next party that I am invited to and not take the pledge of silence beforehand. I am beginning to think I can carry the old canvas bag for another decade, as long as it isn't filled with the burdens of worry and insecurity. Beth reminded me that there is Someone who is willing to empty those things out of my bag for me. I hear the song again...but it sounds very different this time... "Your gonna make it after all."