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Monday, December 5, 2016

Stories of insecurity

Around this time last year, my anxiety level was so high it probably went beyond the stratosphere. I was to meet Z in a few days, and I was so jittery. I was so insecure of her that when we got introduced, I wasn't able to eat even if there were countless of sumptuous dishes on the buffet table.

I remembered this because last weekend, a good friend of mine talked to me about her insecurity. Like me, she's insecure of a girl. The thought of her makes her feel small and inadequate, just the way Z makes me feel so small. I can relate to every part of her story. When we were talking last Saturday, I got transported to that dinner party where I met Z for the first time.

I've talked about my insecurity a lot on this blog, with my boyfriend PM, and with a few close friends. Sometimes, I feel they are already tired of me telling them how insecure I am of Z. If I can get over it by sheer willpower, I will. But unfortunately, it doesn't work that way.

I once told PM that maybe it would help if I talk about my insecurity with other people who know Z personally. PM agreed, so I talked to two people who know her. Even if we're not particularly close, I appreciate these two friends (Dr. C and Dr. T) of mine who took the time to listen to my story. Both of them gave me the same piece of advice: that I should love myself. That there is no reason for me to be insecure of her.

PM helps me with my insecurity by telling me the qualities that he likes about me. He even greets me with "Hey, Pretty!" or "Good morning, Pretty!" I appreciate every bit of it because it makes me feel good about myself. But ultimately, this appreciation should come from deep within me. Self-love, as what my two doctor friends have advised.

A year after meeting Z, I am still insecure of her. But now, I am finding less reasons to feel that way. I have started to love myself more. I wear my favorite deep red lipstick when I need a boost. But I still can't go out without makeup. I am afraid of bumping into Z without looking my best. Maybe this will pass, too. And when that happens, I will be wearing makeup for the sheer joy of doing so and not because I am insecure of Z.

It took me quite a long time to make this small progress. Battling with insecurity is a long (and painful) process. It involves a lot of tears and a lot of talking with close friends and loved ones. If I would give my friend who talked to me last Saturday an advice, I would tell her to just hold on. Nobody can set a deadline for someone to get over her insecurity. I am still not done with my battle. But eventually, I will. And so will my friend.

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