I literally hate insecurities. It’s so much easier for a man to recover from a porn addiction or issues with purity than it is for a woman to heal from insecurities and the 5,682 insecurities that sprung up after the porn addiction was exposed. I don’t blame George for my insecurities, I know they are my problem, just like he can’t blame me for any issues with lust.
But … being married makes my insecurities so much worse. Since I discovered his secret I’ve come a looooong way. A very long way. I don’t dwell on those things. I don’t think about what he looked at (or what he may see out and about today). December doesn’t mark death for me, it marks so much beautiful new life.
But there are still insecurities. The more I try to get rid of the world’s idea of beauty, the harder it gets. For every arrow I pull out … fifteen more are flung at my heart. Thankfully, I’ve got a great shield (faith) and an amazing sword (God’s Word), but every now and then an arrow still gets in there.
I’ve had three babies. Within three years. For those of you who’ve been there, you know. For those of you who haven’t, let’s just say it doesn’t matter how young I look on the surface … my stomach looks like the stomach of a ninety-year-old. My jeans still don’t fit right. And I know without a doubt that my body will never look the same, ever. Gone are the days of my youth.
Most days this doesn’t bother me. Most days I desire humility and want God to strip any desire for pride and admiration from my life. But some days … some days I put my guard down and an arrow gets in there. I start asking George questions like, “Do you still love me as I age? As my body changes?” He reassures me, but I continue to ask, “Are you sure you’re attracted to me? Do you wish I looked like I did when you met me?”
These phases only last for a little while, because I know one thing is for sure… I hate insecurities. I loathe them. They are nothing but a pitiful way to be self-centered. It’s easy, so easy, for me to be ugly to the world. To be unnoticed. I don’t want recognition and admiration from the world. I don’t want to be an object or be sexy or turn heads.
But to my husband? I want to be beautiful. Which is why I said it’s more difficult to deal with insecurities when you’re married. You feel like you have someone you need to please with your outward beauty. You are taught that so much of your worth as a wife depends on two things: how you look and how your house looks.
It’s not true, but it sure makes “not caring what the world thinks of you” a lot more interesting. I’ve been learning lately where that line is … the line between being beautiful to the world and beautiful to your husband.
I will share my discoveries with you soon. I’m still getting some flower emails in. Email me if you haven’t already. I’m going to do a series of posts in the next week that deal with who we are and who we should be.
