Embracing My Insecurities: A Journey to Self-Love

Alexandra Daddario once said, "I'm a combination of extreme insecurity and confidence." Insecurities can be joy killers, often keeping me up at night. I constantly wish I could escape my thoughts about the little things and simply love myself as I am. But I am learning.

Talking about insecurities, it scares me because it means being vulnerable. Who wants to do that? Not me, but I promised you I would be honest.

Let’s start with the physical aspect of who I am. I am short, and for the longest time, that bothered me. My government documents say I’m 5’5”, but if you’ve seen me, you know the truth. How do you tell people you’re a whole adult who’s 4’11”? Now, I find it endearing. I love being short because I can easily disappear in a crowd.

I am insecure about my face. I have very smooth skin, but when a pimple appears, I feel like I’m fighting a giant. I never want people to see it, and dealing with hyperpigmentation sucks. So, I read about all the natural ways to get rid of it, and as you know, skincare is crazy expensive.

When I was young, I always wore hats of every type. I’d go to church with a hat on, everywhere actually. It’s not that I have bad hair; you can tell from pictures that I have nice hair. But I’m not too fond of people touching my hair because of an incident at school. Now, only my hairdresser (once or twice a year), our house manager (because she’s very gentle and patient with me), and I touch it. I developed a sensitive scalp afterward.

I have a wonderful singing voice, or so I’ve been told. Maybe my head is just protecting me, but I’ve always loved singing, especially in high school. I hate when people ask, “Do you still sing?” as if it was something that was supposed to disappear. If I do end up singing, I get taken advantage of, which is sad. Now, I barely do it. I sing for myself, and my cats, and once in a while, I’ll record for anyone who wants—emphasis on “once in a while.”

Weight is another issue. Since I was young, I have been very curvy, and even when I wasn’t, due to constant comments from people, I thought I was big. In 2020, I was diagnosed with PCOS, a horrid year. I will explain what it is, how I was diagnosed, and how living with it feels in another blog. I apologize to anyone finding out now; I just wanted to keep it to myself. I can fluctuate and gain weight in a matter of months. Thanks to PCOS, I am now struggling. I eat right, clean, skip, walk, eat my fruits, use Arowet (a natural reproductive and digestive health product for women), and cut a lot of sugar, but nothing seems to satisfy the people around me—or even me. I get constant comments about losing weight or hear in the car, “I know who has been eating the most,” from my aunts, parents, cousins, even some of my friends, and people I’ve dated. “Kwani wewe ndio unamalizia wengine food? Unakulanga nini?” (I cried a little while writing this). My siblings and I don’t share the same body type. I got my curves from my grandmother and mother. But I am finally at a place where I don’t care—well, I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t drain me. Sometimes I wish I could shout, but I keep quiet and move on. I am working on it, and I try not to be rude to anyone who comments because they don’t know better, and some do. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words won’t.

Sometimes, I look at my friends, sisters, brothers, aunts, and parents and wonder if they have insecurities. I hate the idea that my younger cousins or my siblings might go through what I go through. I never want anyone I love, or anyone in general, to stay up at night thinking about their insecurities. I wish I could talk to my younger self and tell her to relax from the constant self-doubt, that people will always comment on but do not take to heart, to love herself, that she is growing into whoever she wants to be, and that she will become badass, fierce, painfully beautiful, funny, and incredibly smart as she grows. I wish someone had told me

earlier.

I’ve always prided myself on being a perfectionist. Deadlines? No problem. Instructions? Clear and concise. My world was a meticulously organized symphony of to-do lists and checkboxes. But beneath the surface of this carefully curated façade, a different story was unfolding.

My pursuit of perfection often came at a steep cost. Relationships, in particular, felt like fragile glass ornaments, easily shattered by differing opinions or unexpected changes. The fear of disapproval was a constant companion, shaping my decisions and coloring my interactions. For years, I walked on eggshells, desperate to maintain harmony at all costs. A shift in a friendship sent me into overdrive, analyzing every word, every action, convinced that the blame lay solely with me. The truth is, I was sacrificing my own needs and desires to keep everyone else happy.

Then came 2020. The world as we knew it ground to a halt, forcing us to confront our deepest fears and vulnerabilities. For me, it was an unexpected gift. Isolated from the constant demands of social interaction, I discovered a newfound appreciation for solitude. The pressure to be perfect, to please everyone, began to fade.

I learned that relationships, like the seasons, have their cycles. Silence doesn't equate to distance, and disagreements don't signal the end.  These moments can be catalysts for growth and deeper understanding.

Lastly, I am insecure about not being enough for myself and others. Do I live my life to the fullest because of my insecurities? The answer to that is obvious to me; rather, I am trying to figure it out. There is always a worry in my head about my future. Do I do enough? Do I have what it takes to become who I want to be? Are my dreams going to come true? What are the chances of me having children if I have PCOS? Will I always be in my head forever? I am learning to take it one day at a time, to live at my own pace, but most importantly, I constantly ask for God's guidance to lead my path and pray that my plans align with His will for me. I am learning to ask for help when I need it and not to listen to everyone’s opinions about who I am. I am enough for me, and that’s all that matters.

It's a journey, and I'm still learning. But embracing imperfection has liberated me in ways I never thought possible. It's allowed me to build deeper, more authentic connections, and to discover a sense of peace and fulfillment that I never knew existed.

The cracks in our armor are not flaws but opportunities for light to shine through.

I love listening to a song called “Holes” by Njoki Karu. I hope it speaks to you like it did to me.

[Listen on Spotify]

(https://open.spotify.com/track/7t4phf1VATg7qebIIFIZkx?si=83qSM2RdSIiibhygzKP2tQ)

[Watch on YouTube]

(https://youtu.be/fRkYXJ7zu3M?si=rz27tlfDPlp0BDos)