Insecurity

Insecurity.

Some days I have it in spades.

Let me just say that as a writer, I live in the land of insecurity.

Do my readers get me? Did I communicate what I meant? Does anyone even read what I write?

Sometimes I feel like I’m driving in heavy traffic, talking to myself, and suddenly, the teen-aged version of me asks, “Are you talking to yourself?”

It’s that moment when I’m embarrassed and can still laugh at myself all at the same time. I think that part is important — the ability to laugh. Especially at myself.

I know deep down my insecurity is just a feeling that goes hand in hand with the creative process. I create something. I put it out there.  You judge it. It’s all very scary.

And it’s all about me. Insecurity is internal: it’s always about me, me, me! What if I take that insecurity and turn it inside out?

What if instead of me, I think of you? What if instead of being insecure and being self-absorbed in my perceived short-comings, I move that energy outward and inspire?

I like that a whole lot better. It takes the attention away from me and places it on you — to encourage you — to inspire you.

Because if I can take a risk and write, you can take a risk to do whatever it is you were meant to do.

Insecurity. Inspire.