Growing up, I thought that Insecurity was a childhood friend; the kind that naturally drifts away once you graduate high school, realizing that all you had in common was living on the same block. We had been close our entire lives, we went everywhere together. Finally, at eighteen, I was ready to be free from him; ready to change my life, my perceptions, my path.
But when I arrived at college for my first day, there he was, waiting to accompany me on my new adventure. We traveled through those four years together, battling each other, day-in and day-out. I hate to admit how often he won. As graduation day, and real life, approached, I was eager to say farewell to him; he demanded far too much of my time, attention, energy, emotion.
I moved away from home, filled with the anticipation of a new life, new career, new me. A me without Insecurity. Although we had never been apart, I was thrilled to blaze my own trail without him constantly tagging along. But as I emptied the first boxes in my new apartment, I turned around and there he stood. During that first year after college, it felt as though Insecurity never left my side. He wanted to be part of everything I did: job-searching, friend-searching, path-searching, purpose-searching. He breathed down my neck as I poured over my resume. He dragged me away each time I made a new friend. He laughed in my ear as I attempted to create a new identity.
The day I landed my first 'big girl' job was festive. I was euphoric; I had done what felt impossible and for the first time in my life, I set forth, free from Insecurity.
The admirable thing about Insecurity though, is he is a faithful friend. It didn't take him long to find me in my new post and to begin quietly whispering doubt in my ear; watering the seeds of fear, the sprouts of inadequacy. He is relentlessly loyal, glued to my side even when I've told him he is free to go. And for better or worse, he knows me better than I know myself.
Each time I step out of my comfort zone - ready to pursue my passion, live the life I'm meant to live, do what I was created to do, be the me I desperately want to be - he is there. Laughing, taunting, doubting, lying, convincing. And each time I tell myself, this time will be different. But each time, he wins.
I've had enough. This time, I will reign victorious.