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Public Opinion vs Insecurities

I live near a beach.

My city’s beach is a favorite vacation spot.  Thanks to Facebook and the beach, I’ve been able to connect with friends I haven’t seen in years.

Last Friday, I met up with Patricia, a high school friend I haven’t seen in over twenty years.  I also got to meet her children.

The hugs were heartfelt as we greeted one another, and we quickly settled into a comfortable conversation.

We caught up on each others’ occupations (I’d always thought she stayed home full-time because of the pictures I’d seen on Facebook).

We discussed our husbands’ occupations and, of course, our children.

Slowly, the conversation turned deeper.

Something I’d mentioned earlier about being insecure around groups of people became a topic we discussed further.

The school we went to was very small.  It was, after all, located in a teensy town off the beaten path.

I don’t know why, but I found myself opening up to Patricia in a way I don’t open up to others often.

Yes, I know that may surprise you given my gift of gab, both written and in person if you know me in real life.

I told Patricia how I’d always felt inferior to Super Sis, who excelled at cheerleading, always had perfect hair, and could put outfits together like nobody’s business.

Patricia surprised me then by saying that she’d never looked at us that way.

I.

Was.

Shocked.

I’ve lived a lot of my life in the shadow of my sister.

It’s not her fault.  She’s just been living her life.

It’s my fault, allowing teenage insecurities along with tough life situations I dealt with while still a youngster, to affect my approach to life and my perception of how others view me.

Patricia told me that she shares some of the same insecurities that I do…worrying about wearing the right thing, saying the right thing, and doing the right thing.

Interesting, eh?

She was a cheerleader and an excellent student.

She had a lot of friends…probably because of her quick smile and gentle nature.

We had such a wonderful visit in that ice cream parlor, and I hated to part ways.

As I drove home, I had tears in my eyes.

Patricia’s words, “I never saw you that way,” really touched me.

Her words made me wonder, too, how those I grew up with really saw me.

It was funny because her husband, who was in her class (thus I knew him too) called her while we were talking and told her that since I was always so smart in school, could I help him convert ounces to teaspoons?  For the record, I was never good at math, but thanks to technology and a little thing called “Google,” I quickly found the answer for him.

Still, it revealed another opinion someone had of me while I was younger.

All of this makes me wonder why we, as humans, allow ourselves to stay stuck inside of our insecurities.

Why do we allow these insecurities to dictate the decisions we make.

How often have you NOT done something because of your fear of what others might think.

That doesn’t mean you have to sing in public if you have a voice like mine.  No sense breaking wine glasses or anything.

Still, though, if you’re singing out to make someone laugh or because you love someone, does it really matter what others think?

Even if you don’t have a good reason for singing out or dancing or doing a herky jerky (that’s a cheerleader jump, I think) while in the middle of a crowd, why let what others think stop you?

I think we hide behind our insecurities because it’s the safest thing to do.

To do otherwise takes courage.

It means we’re willing to step outside of our comfort zone.

Just think of the fun we’ve missed out on.

What if we’ve missed out on undiscovered talents or new interests, simply because we wouldn’t give ourselves permission to spread our wings and try to fly?

Super Sis and I have talked about this topic.  It’s neat to have adult conversations with your adult siblings, isn’t it?

When Super Sis and I first began broaching this subject, I discovered something.

She’d had some of the same fears I’d had growing up.

Dang.

Instead of arguing so much, we should have been having hearts-to-hearts while we were growing up.  We sure missed out on a lot!!

Sharing with Patricia reminded me that I am not alone, but it was neat to see her huge smile as she, too, had that “Aha” moment where she realized the same thing.

I think where it comes to public opinion, we’d all be very surprised to find that what others think of us is vastly different from what we think they think of us, if you’re following my logic.

Things to think about.

Yeah, I can get deep sometimes.

Insecurities

Today, while attending an academics awards ceremony at my daughter’s high school, I was reminded of some insecurities I thought I had put aside.

I don’t know why this surprises me as teenage children don’t exactly deliver bucket loads of compliments to their parents. In fact, their comments usually dash whatever good feelings you might have about yourself.

Have you ever walked out of the bathroom pleased with the way your hair turned out? I mean, how often do we really have good hair or makeup days?

For some reason, my eyeliner will not go on in a thin line the same way two days in a row. I manage to mess it up most of the time. But the one time I walk out with a younger looking face, mascara not smudged anywhere, Little Miss Auburnchickadee manages to burst my bubble.

“Mama, you really need to rub in your powder. Oh, and by the way, you put on too much blush this morning. Your face looks like it’s on fire.”

Happy day to you too, dear.

So then you walk around rubbing your cheeks all day, scared your face is shining like a beacon…pointing the way to safe harbor.

I hate feeling self-conscious.

Today was one of those days.

Daughter had begged me not to arrive too early for the ceremony. She remembered the night of the pinning ceremony when I insisted on getting there an hour early. Gotta get the best seat, you know.

She said that there might still be kids in the gym, and that they might recognize me as “belonging to her” since we look alike.

Somewhere in there, there’s a backhanded compliment. I did not miss the fact that she admitted that we look alike. That was a first. However, it was not said kindly. Heaven forbid that I’m recognized as Little Miss Auburnchickadee’s mother — the one who was on bed rest for an entire month during her pregnancy — during the holidays — and then in labor for nine very long hours and pushed for one entirely way too long hour with her playing peekaboo before she decided to come out for good.

So, I get there a good 30 minutes early. Of course, I had to park out front and walk through the entire school to get to the gym. This is where I got self-conscious.

First of all, I do not envision myself looking like a “mom.” In my mind, I’m still that vivacious high schooler who happens to have the mind (and experience) of a mom. However, I’ve never seen a high schooler with a knitting bag and booga purse slung over her right shoulder…walking down the school hallways.

I pray that I don’t slide on the floor and fall. I would absolutely hate to make the kids drool over the items in my knitting bag. I mean, those Options needles are the latest craze. And my stitch markers…made specially for me by a dear friend…well, they could use them to trade for Chick-fil-A sandwiches. That’s how amazing they are. I also look down to make sure that the heavy baggage on my right arm has not unsnapped my blouse. That would be just my luck…kind of like walking down the hallway with toilet paper sticking out of your pants.

I made it down the hallway accident-free and entered the wrong door to the gym. Of course. This is AuburnChick, who never has an easy time doing anything.

“Ma’am, you should probably go to the other door,” says a helpful young lady.

Grrr…when did I become a “ma’am?”

And the process starts all over again, only in reverse, after the ceremony is over. I see a girl and guy hanging all over each other in the hallway. They give me a cursory glance. I’m just a mom with a knitting bag. I’m harmless.

So, the question begs to be asked.  Do we ever grow out of our high school insecurities? I don’t think so, because nobody likes to look stupid. Whether it be walking in the wrong door or slipping down a couple of steps…any time anyone looks at us in a funny way we’re reminded that there will always remain inside of us a scared little girl (or boy, if I happen to have any male readers).