Insecurity

According to Eric Fromm, what distinguishes us from other sentient life on earth is our ability to perceive that we have choices, and to make those choices deliberately. A honey bee does not question its purpose or its next steps. Humans do.

The price that man [sic] pays for consciousness is insecurity. He can stand his insecurity by being aware and accepting the human condition, and by the hope that he will not fail even though he has no guarantee for success.

Living with insecurity while holding on to hope is radical. It is both freeing and terrifying to know that we have choices. Sometimes I'd rather not have a choice and instead be told exactly what to do. Sometimes the insecurity of life and the number of choices is overwhelming. Addiction, whether through food or substances or work, is one way of opting out of choice, of coping with the instability of the world.

Some of us learned how to handle insecurity as children; some of us need more practice. The outward instability of the world is navigable if you have a strong sense of self. Insecurity can mean lack of confidence or it can mean lack of stability. The common word in both definitions is lack. Trusting my body -- for I had a lack of faith in it -- was one of the hardest but most fruitful lessons I ever learned. In the beginning of my experiment in self-trust, it felt like I was in free fall. Gradually, though, I learned that my body was worthy of trust, and in fact had better advice than any dietician could give me.

I think trust in my body was part one for me. If I were taking a class on insecurity, I'd have received a B- in Insecurity 101: How to Trust Oneself. The next course is Insecurity 102: How to Trust Others. Specifically, how to trust that I am worthy of love and that others can and do love me. There are only a couple of people in this world whose love I am not afraid of losing.

There are many other people whom I love, some of whom I even consider my best friends. I would take in their children or their pets if something catastrophic happened, no questions asked. It is almost embarrassing, perhaps even offensive, to admit that I'm not completely secure in their love for me.

Trusting myself is hard; trusting others is harder. It requires an acknowledgment of vulnerability while simultaneously holding onto hope. Receiving a phone call from a friend often makes me emotional. It is a relief to know that that individual cares about me, cares enough to reach out for me. Sometimes I start crying after I hang up the phone out of gratitude and relief.

Every time I receive love, it is like a quarter in my mental jar of trust. The more metaphorical quarters that plink into that jar, the more relaxed I become. I still need more quarters, more reassurance, but every day it becomes a little easier to have faith.

Faith in others and faith in myself allow me to be more fully conscious of the world around me. If I'm no longer distrustful of myself and therefore not wasting useless energy on stupid shit like counting calories, then I can spend more time looking outward. If I am secure in the fact that my friends will be there for me tomorrow, it's easier to connect with people. It gives me more energy to see the tiny, gorgeous details of the world, to take photographs of insects or read ee cummings.

Self-esteem, self-trust, for me, is not linear. I attended a maple festival this morning and enjoyed a lot of free samples. My old self, though not as loud as it used to be, was still uncomfortable and gave me lots of suggestions. I acknowledged that voice, but I do not have to listen to it. And while I'm less concerned with my physical appearance these days, guess what I bought at the grocery store the other day? $13 under eye cream. Do I truly believe that it will help my 40-year-old face? Not really. At least I can laugh at myself now and acknowledge my insecurities and be more accepting of the human condition. It frees me up to invest in hope and appreciation for the beautiful fragility of the world and the people around me.