An Open Letter to Insecurity

Isn't this picture so beautiful?

Look at how individual and exquisite that log is.

It stands out, doesn't it?

It's so unique and wondrous.

It makes me feel proud of that log.

It is in that pile like a boss.

As if it doesn't even notice that it's different or damaged or broken.

Or, perhaps, it does notice that it is not like all the others and it is marking its spot because it KNOWS it belongs.

 Look at the growth around that rotten circle there.

I think to myself, "What did my log friend endure during those years of 'damage?'"

What kind of storms did it weather?

Did it sit in a forest alone?

Or, was it surrounded by a village that buoyed it up and loved it because it was so resilient?

This log, I've gently named Heidi 2.0, is just my most favorite visual.

And, speaking of Log Heidi 2.0...

I have something I want to say to Insecurity and Invalidation.

Although I have actually brought a chair to the table for Fear, Shame and Comparison (which together are the Insecurity Family), I have rules and regulations.

It is my table, after all.

They are welcome at my table.

I know they are at my table every moment of every day.

I see them and I hear them and I feel them right next to me, or directly across the table from me.

I even set them a place there.

Forks on the left, knife and spoons on the right.

I remind them to put their napkin in their laps, even.

Manners.

However, they are no longer allowed to give me any feedback.

I will no longer listen to their voices.

It is not welcome at MY table.

Their opinions are not worthy of  being voiced.

There are others at my table, as well.

My children, of course.

Courage has a spot.

Strength has a spot.

Compassion, Grace and Love all have spots.

And, me.

I sit at the head of my own table.

Sometimes, too, the Insecurity Family brings friends and allies.

They are in the human form.

I can put a leaf extension in the table and we can make room for them.

I will ensure they have proper silverware, napkins and water.

But the rules are the same for them as they are for the Insecurity Family.

Their opinions won't be heard at my table.

And, should they be voiced over my objection they will then be dismissed.

My table is a safe place.

Where rest is felt.

Where there are all feelings and all are valid.

Where feelings are not dangerous.

Where love and courage and strength and fatigue and sadness and fear and anger and joy and peace and anxiety are all felt, honored, and exercised.

Where we all make mistakes and bad choices.

Where we are loved anyways.

Where we are all aware that our worth and value is never in question.

Ever.

Where we will never not be enough.