Insecure.

I’ve had this this thought in my head the whole day. Don’t ask me why I waited till now to write it down. Atleast it’s something you can nibble on before bed, right?

You know, being confident in yourself is probably one of the hardest things people can ask of you. It’s hard not being insecure, especially in this society. Being insecure is human after all. To be human is to have such flaws.

Insecurities manifest themselves in many different ways. From work, school to relationships we’re confronted by life’s reminder, or rather our own built-in mirrors, that force us to look at ourselves in relation to others.

Trust me, it’s hard not to. Some people just get the luck of the draw sometimes.

Sometimes the factors are socio-economic in nature ,or better yet physical.

It’s strange isn’t it? You can feel insecure about something you can’t help.

These were my thoughts when I saw a tweet from a “big” girl who posted a picture of herself in a bikini. It wasn’t the picture that shocked me, the picture was essentially a way of embracing herself and the stigma “big” women face. What shocked me was her caption which insinuated that people would judge her immediately for posting the picture. For me, the caption defeated the object of the picture. Insecure, albeit understandable.

I’m not writing about that now though. Allow me to share a story with you, hopefully my experience(s) will help you feel a little less insecure.

So I’m known for being quite a confident person. I mean, I’m not the most confident human but you’d really have to be putting in maximum effort for me to feel insecure in some way.

I grew in the township (I’m a clichè).

I lived my entire childhood life in the dusty streets of townships (Zwelitsha Zone 10 then Sweetwaters), playing around and causing random chaos when I could.

I didn’t go to school in the township though — well, for a year I did. I went to a school in town, with other kids from other townships.

I grew up pretty oblivious to alot of things, including my housing condition.

You see, I grew up living in flats. Not the flats you see in Pretoria or Johannesburg, I mean those 1 room flats. The was 1 bed, 1 wardrobe, a table, stove, fridge and a few other basic amenities.

For me this was pretty normal, mainly cause the people in the same yard lived like us. Everyone had a simple life. It was rather fun to be honest, too many stories though.

The first time I ever noticed my living conditions were “different” from other kids was when my friend who lived a few streets over invited a bunch of us to watch TV at his house. This boy lived in a damn double story house. It was my first experience with a DSTV and a double-storey. Oh, did I mention he had his own bed? I was convinced his family was royalty. His own bed in a double storey house!? This was foreign to me.

So where was I? Oh yea, I grew up living in a flat. So when I went to school in town I naturally made friends with alot of the other township kids. Birds of a feather, flock together or something like that. Simply, broke recognised broke.

Naturally, when you’re friends with someone you often visit their home right? Some of the kids had big homes, and me? A flat. With my mom. I think I felt embarrassed at the thought of my friends coming to my home and finding out I lived there. It was stupid I know, but I was quite insecure about it for a long time. Well into grade 6 even. I was a bit ungrateful, my mom had a master plan after all.

Now, believe me, this wasn’t a shady flat. It looked great. My mom knows how to turn two loaves of bread into a 5-star burger, if you know what I mean. You don’t? She was great at feng-shui’ing the flat. Get it now?

Besides the house of my dreams, I never lacked much growing up. Barely spoilt but barely craved things…for more than 2 years. My mother is and was stubborn.

My insecurities about where I lived ran so deep that none of my friends (from town) ever knew where exactly I lived, and I never allowed them to know where I lived. I didn’t appreciate that my mom had built a home that was enough for the both of us. To be honest, it was rather hard to appreciate that during winter when I had to bath in a vaskom.

“Fleeting ideas of happiness or acceptamce are honestly just that, fleeting. Especially when based on unsatisfaction.”

My insecurities though stemmed from the judgement and ridicule I thought I’d receive. Kids can be quite mean and I was always a sensitive kid, although I hid it pretty well and was a loud mouth.

The thing with being insecure about something is that you don’t appreciate the joys or experiences that come with the situation because you’re too focused on unimportant details. Fleeting ideas of happiness or acceptamce are honestly just that, fleeting. Especially when based on unsatisfaction.

I know it’s hard not to look at yourself in comparison to the skinny girl or guy but they’re probably dealing with their own issues. Focusing on yourself, and loving the shxt out of the most awkward parts of yourself is liberating. You’ll laugh along when people attempt to ridicule you, because you’ve just accepted yourself and are, as I always say, one with yourself. That’s all you can do.

Also, you’ll be surprised at how many of your friends feed your insecurities by their jokes. Regulate that. We’re adults, you can’t allow people to mess with our peace because they feel insecure about themselves. Don’t let people mess up how you feel about yourself.

The one thing about growing up in the township was how you always had to defend yourself or risk being a victim. When the battle is internal? You better fight back too. Don’t be a victim to yourself and your insecurities. Enjoy every moment.

Anyway, good night!