Saturday, 10 December 2016

Insecurity

I have a confession to make. No! Confession is definitely not the word. I have an unuttered acknowledgement to make. Something I should have acknowledged long back but haven’t had the cajones to come out and say it out aloud. I am an insecure man. Depending on ones’ leanings, one might label it as ‘self-doubt’, ‘lack of self-esteem’, ‘loss of confidence’. I call it being insecure.

What am I insecure about?

Everything I suppose. Not being part of something. That I don’t belong. That I would be found as a fraud. That I am not as smart or cool or great at things I think I am. That I don’t think I deserve anything that I have or seek. That maybe I am delusional about my skills and my self-worth. That the people I consider friends would disown me if they really knew that who I am.
I acknowledge that I am insecure. Which I suppose by any managerial or psycho-therapeutic text might be considered as a solid first step. They say first step is the hardest. Standing on it, I can tell that it is most definitely not. It is the not the easiest step because you are immediately pummeled with the question, ‘now what?’, ‘What next?’, ‘What is step 2?’ and ‘How do I get to step 2?’.
There are these other questions which I am currently grappling with: Does insecurity also breed impatience? And short temper as a result of impatience? I know insecurity lends itself to being primitive about defense mechanisms. One adopts offense is the best defense as a way of interacting with people, only to bring about a spotlight on ones’ own tryst with insecurity.  
I have always battled insecurity, my defense mechanism constantly changing because the perceived threats were unpredictable. When I was being a brash, arrogant teen and I made friends, I chose humor because picking up a fight every single cricket playing evening was turning out to be complete strain and seclusion had already been ruled out as an ineffective measure by me as a young kid. So I laughed at anything and everything. I laughed at things which would have otherwise shattered any sane man.
I turned older and I realized that humor was at best a flimsy deceptive veil. Easily shredded with a simple question, ‘what is so funny?’. It was the turn of the century and people were hailing it to be the information era. So I started reading. On anything and everything my eyes could lay siege upon.
Time has gone by like it always does. Like an unheard albeit meaningful song being played on the radio, whose music lilts your heart, whose words find echo in the chambers of your conscience. You wish for more and yet the voice of the RJ declares that is all there is to it.

So, here I am. Acknowledging my insecurity. People say it is the first step. I search for these people who say things. People, tell me what is the next step. What does one do now?

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