Midnight Writer

Do you ever catch yourself sugar coating the emotions that you feel inside. The ones that you have to keep reminding yourself about. Man this shirt is super tight now, maybe it’s because I washed on the wrong temperature or Is it true that she doesn’t like me, I am sure it’s because she already has someone. I find myself all the time, searching for answers for the insecurities in my life. Solving all my problems by plastering a pathetic band-aid of an excuse on it. Well, it’s time for the hard truth.

Insecurities are something we all struggle with. Whether it be our weight, looks, family history, or even our wealth. There are things in our life that inadvertently bring us stress. I for one have a trailer load of these insecurities. I come from a very broken family, the kind of broken that doesn’t just fade away when you grow up. It lingers. It follows you into every decision, every relationship, every mirror you look into. It teaches you early on how to pretend you’re fine, even when you’re not. And if you’re not careful, you spend your whole life mistaking survival skills for personality traits.

My insecurities didn’t appear overnight. They were built slowly, quietly, the way rust grows on a vehicle left in the weather. A comment here. A disappointment there. A mistake you still think about even though it happened ten years ago. Trauma has a long memory, even when you’re trying your hardest to forget. Even when you thought the memory was gone.

For the longest time, I convinced myself that if I ignored my insecurities, they would eventually leave me alone. Spoiler: they didn’t. They just learned how to whisper instead of shout. They showed up in little moments. Tugging at my shirt, doubting someone’s intentions, convincing myself I wasn’t good enough for something I wanted. I kept telling myself these were normal thoughts, just everyday anxieties. But deep down, I knew better.

The hard truth is this:
Insecurities don’t go away when you ignore them. They grow roots.

And the longer you pretend they don’t exist, the harder they are to pull out.

But here’s the part I’m finally learning and honestly, still struggling to accept:

Insecurities aren’t a sign that something is wrong with you. They’re a sign that something happened to you.
And that difference matters.

It means you’re not weak. You’re not dramatic. You’re not broken beyond repair.

You’re human. A human who’s been hurt. A human who’s trying.

And maybe, just maybe, admitting those things isn’t the end of the story… it’s the beginning of healing.

So no more sugarcoating. No more excuses disguised as coping mechanisms. No more pretending that the little voice in my head is “no big deal.” Because acknowledging the truth, even the messy truth, is the only way any of us will ever find peace.

If insecurities are the scars, then honesty is the first step toward letting them heal.

And maybe tonight, writing this, is mine.

–Midnight Writer

“Insecurity kills more dreams than failure ever will.”

— Suzy Kassem