Securing the Insecurity with Insecure Confidence (say that real fast five times)

I’m not saying I’m a completely daft twit who doesn’t know her head from her arse, well I don’t usually know my head from my arse, like I was just thinking I should wait until my husband comes home to call him, but anyway, wait, it’s just hitting you what you read isn’t it? Anyway, I know what the word “insecurity” is. I really do know the meaning of the word. It’s been part of my vocabulary for decades. So when I have to google the definition before I can even begin to write a blog post about “insecurities,” from More than Cheese and Beer’s Sunday Confessions prompt, I’m saying it’s not because I don’t know the definition of the word because I do, but that in a super ironic twist, I’m insecure about my definition of the word insecure.

This so reminds me of the time I asked the pharmacist, “There’s these pills I keep seeing advertised on television that are supposed to aid in memory, and I forget what they are called…”

So let’s look at the word insecurity.

Well outside of the fact that I’m insecure about definitions of words… I’m constantly googling definition and spelling to double check myself because nothing is more embarrassing than this…

So outside of all that, I would say it’s possible we should put a picture of my face next to the definition of the word insecurity and confidence… You’ll see why I’m a walking talking juxtapositiony paradox…

The first definition, uncertainty… I’m always uncertain. I think it’s a good thing really because I double check myself as a result. Because I’m not sure if “morbid” is really the word I’m looking for, I’ll google it and find the word I meant to use, “co-morbid.” Because I’m not sure if my shirt matches my pants on a night I’m trying to look decent, I’ll ask someone. Because I’m not sure Evolution is really how it went down and I’m too lazy to really read what it’s really about beyond what I had to learn on the subject, I keep an open mind for things like “ancient alien breeding.” Don’t knock it, if you find out there are aliens all over this place, you’ll be surprised because you were too confident in your theory.

Things I’m insecure about include (definitely are not limited to):

My looks
I have wrinkles, gray hair, saggy boobs, saggy ass, shit I need a pedicure, gross is that a mole or a pimple?

My creativity
This painting sucks why did I just waste 5 days of my life on it?… this blog post sucks, I still won’t share it on my personal facebook profile in fear that people I went to high school with might see it and laugh, you know, laugh, the thing I try to make my readers do. SMH at myself.

My resume
Ugh, no degree? Really? I’m this old without a college degree? And look at this work history. I didn’t work anywhere long enough for it to even belong on this resume. This is for jobs you have for 10 years, not 3.

My housekeeping abilities
If you came over here, you’d be insecure about my housekeeping abilities too.

This is the worst… Am I really right to stop giving her milk even though the doctor said it’s ok but I swear she’s allergic to it? Maybe I should be more strict? Maybe I should spank more? Maybe I’m all wrong about autism? Maybe my kid doesn’t even have autism? Did I really give them ice cream for dinner? She’s sleeping on a bed with no sheet, what happened to the sheet, how can I let her sleep like that? How did I not notice this? I yelled too loud. I didn’t yell loud enough. Is this healthy to eat? Maybe she’s gaining weight because I should be feeding her more of this instead? Is it my fault she’s gaining weight? It shouldn’t matter, some people have curves, but really am I feeding her too much? I should have withheld that snack from her? Did I really just deny my kid food? Like how dare I not feed my hungry child? What kind of parent have I become?

When I’m cooking, I swear I added too much salt, or not enough. This pizza is not going to work there’s too many toppings for this crust. This cup (from the cabinet) is not clean enough to give the kid. I should have hand washed it again just to be sure. Why am I hand washing a clean cup? I’m spending too much time on the computer. I shouldn’t read that thing on Facebook. Did I actually just laugh at that? What kind of person laughs at that? Yes I agree with that, even though I probably shouldn’t. Why am I commenting? Nobody gives a shit. Delete. Am I stupid for having a flag in my living room? Like how stupid am I to stand here and say the Pledge of Allegiance. I’m sick of our politicians, am I making my kids swear allegiance to assholes? This cold water load probably should be washed in hot because of the interesting goop on that one sweater, like the germs will just spread to all the clothes. No it should be on cold, I’ll ruin the clothes on hot. I’m putting it on cold. No, I should have put it on hot. I probably will make everyone sick with one load of laundry. I can’t believe I just got annoyed by my kid needing something. I’m the one who chose to have this kid. I’ve been doing other things all day that isn’t this kid, like how do I get off being annoyed?

I’m also quite the opposite at the same time. I do display confidence a lot. Too much confidence a lot. This includes, but not limited to…

  • I will walk into a bar by myself no problem (apparently, men see that as confident, a lot of men see that as confident, or maybe they see it as vulnerable and that’s why they always bring it up)
  • I will tell people what to do knowing my method is the best choice on the job (when I had one)
  • I always have to drive, and I have no problem driving through places I have never been, including a big city, without a map, and apparently, I will drive without brakes as I just did that to get my car to the mechanic so he can fix my brakes. No I didn’t hit any buildings, but I didn’t really test the emergency brake before I attempted to depend on it. 
  • I’m a control freak. I do it because nobody is as good at whatever I’m trying to control than me. 
  • I will walk up to a perfect stranger and talk their ear off, and that includes, true story, “Hi, I’m sure you get this a lot from men, and I’m not a lesbian, but your boobs… Is there any way we can hug so your puppies can give my puppies a pep talk? I am so jealous.”
  • I listen to my intuition
  • In a decision, I go with my idea over someone else’s more often than not (it really bugs my friends)

It’s almost like I second guess myself every step of the way, and because I do that, I know I’m right. I know the other guy telling me what to do never gave it anywhere near as much thought as I did, so I’m the trusted, reliant source. While I have gray hairs and wrinkles and belly that makes me go eww in the mirror, I know that I make the gray hair, the wrinkles, and the belly look good, like I know I can pull it off because I just know I’m beautiful, even if I don’t agree. I don’t think I’m beautiful, not at all, but I know I am.

Despite all the negative talk I do in my head, constantly, every step of the way, I know historically, I’m the one who solves my problems. If I’m lost, I’ve always been the one to find my way. If I need to talk, I talk to myself. If I need something to lean on, I’m the one who drags the object somewhere so I can lean on it.

And despite the negative talk, I keep going. When I’m scared, I keep going. When I’m tired, I keep going. When I quit, I lay down long enough to get back up and keep going. When you just keep swimming, eventually, you’ll figure the shit out. Eventually you’ll learn what you needed to learn to get to the next step. Eventually things work themselves out.

The second definition, the state of being open to danger or threat, well I have PTSD. I assume I’m always open to danger or threat, physically. I’m actually insecure, physically, like I’m not secure, like someone needs to secure my surroundings all the time. Oh, wait, that’s me, so I am securing the insecurity constantly. Yep, every noise, I check it out. And I do, sometimes with a machete. And I say ARRR every time. Occasionally, I hold it up in the air and say, “For the honor of Grayskull…” but for the most part, I talk pirate. And the sad thing is, if someone broke into the house to rape everyone (why else would they break into MY house?), my preferred weapon of choice would be a kitchen knife only because I’m used to using those, like if I can chop raw vegetables, peel potatoes and apples, and cut through raw meat, human flesh should be no problem. And I’m really insecure about using the machete only because it didn’t do shit on slicing pumpkins, or apples (not that I tried or anything), and it was awkward when I tried.

In addition, more in line with the second definition, everything about my life is metaphorical to job insecurity. I’m just wide open for shit to go wrong, and most of my bad luck is a result of my self, whether it be lack of preparation or the fact that I didn’t do something I needed to do, or Facebook (it’s always Facebook’s fault that i didn’t do it).

And last, I own insecurities. It’s like financial securities (like stocks and bonds) but instead of being assets, it’s a liability. I totally made up the word insecurities in this sense.

Anyway, thank you for reading about my insecure security, or secure insecurity. I never claimed I was sane, and I am not sure if you should ever quote me for anything serious. You’ll have to ask the Magic 8 Ball that one. But if you, for whatever reason, liked this post, you know, you can subscribe to my blog. It will send you annoying emails every time I post, but they are much cooler than the ones for male enhancement products, a credit card that will fuck you over, and how you just won some dead guy’s inheritance in Africa. OK, maybe they aren’t cooler than male enhancement spam.

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You should also check out More than Cheese and Beer. She hosts Sunday Confessions every sunday. Search #SundayConfessions on Facebook to see other blog posts and Facebook posts on the subject. If you have a blog (or if you don’t), you should join us. Not in a Darth Vader I’m your Father sort of way, no more like just write a post about our topic and let us know about it sort of way. It’s fun, but not death star destroying planets fun… Don’t get caught in finding your lack of virtual socialization disturbing. Write your confession to us.

Sunday Confessions in no way shape or form is a form of penance, and we cannot offer any form of absolution. You will need to see a professional priest for that. And yes, I googled the definitions of those words.

PS. I posted this Sunday Confession on Saturday. I know. I’m so Bad. Bad to the Bone.



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