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 ...