I am incredibly insecure.
Now, not with everything. I can organize an event better than practically anyone, and I can write a research paper that would make Harold Bloom proud. I am smart, have an aptitude for new things, and I have a memory for intricate details that is pretty ridiculous.
But I also know my own limitations. I am not the world’s best athlete. That is my brother’s arena (literally). I know sports. I love sports. I cannot play sports.
I am not an overly talented musician. I can read music. I can play and sing a little. I have learned from some of the best musicians I know and am better, but I will never be great.
I am not an accomplished theatrical artist. I can understand a script. I have some decent design concepts, but I am not going to be winning any awards for my direction.
Those things don’t bother me. (Well, maybe the theatre one, but I’ll get to that in a minute.) My real insecurity, my main insecurity, is that I don’t know why people want to be friends with me.
I needed to let that one sink in a little. It was hard to type.
But it’s true. I question every relationship I’ve ever had. What could you possibly be getting from being friends with me? I know what I get from being friends with you, but what in the world do you gain from my being in your life?
And this is where the theatre thing comes back. I know I’m not the best, but I think I’m pretty okay at it. I’ve helped some kids grow into better artists and people, and that’s a damn good accomplishment, if I do say so myself. In the end, though, my shows are never exactly what I had in mind, and that makes the perfectionist in me really, really upset.
But I have this friend…y’all. You don’t even know. Most of his shows are so intense and insanely well-directed and well-designed that I just sit and stare with my mouth hanging wide open as I watch them. I will never in a million years be as good at theatre as this incredible genius.
Here’s the weird thing though — somehow, he gets something out of a friendship with me. He has double Masters degrees in design from THE top theatrical design program in the country, and he’s about 10 million times smarter than me, and yet he asks for my self-educated advice on theatre. (Don’t let me oversell this, it’s not major pieces of advice, but it makes me feel good.) I do not understand.
But I’ve realized over the last several years — this brilliant genius of a friend of mine is also insecure. In fact, he hates being called a genius because although he knows he’s good at what he does, he doesn’t think he’s the end all be all. He has incredibly high standards and sets unreasonable expectations for himself, just like I do. He always thinks that what he’s done could have been better. Even if it’s beyond my range of comprehension or abilities, he knows he could have done more.
And that’s just the thing — we ALL have unreasonable expectations and high standards that we’ve set for ourselves. Why do we insist on comparing the standards we’ve set for ourselves to the standards someone else has set for themselves? My friend is not my friend because I can bring the same things to the table he can. He’s my friend because I bring something different to the table that he needs and wants. I don’t know what that is, but it’s really not my place to know what that is. My best friend has told me repeatedly it’s not my business why she chooses to keep me in her life. And it’s not. It’s my business to keep being me. If people want to choose me, then good for them and great for me (because my friends, y’all, are pretty freaking fantastic).
And here’s the other things — if they don’t choose me? Well, that’s okay too. It’s not their loss necessarily, it’s just not their gain in the particular areas I have to offer. That’s a hard one to swallow because, man, do I really hate to fail, and when someone doesn’t pick you, it sure feels like failing. But it’s not. They just don’t need or want what I bring to the table. AND THAT IS OKAY.
As a writer, this is also a particularly difficult concept to swallow. What could I possibly have to offer that other far smarter and better people haven’t already offered to the world?
Well, I don’t know. But that’s not really my business.
My job is just to write and send it out there. It will be just exactly what some people want and need, and very much what others do not. But more importantly, much more importantly, it will be what I need.
So send it out there, friends. Your art, your love, your whatever it is that you are incredibly insecure about. We are right there with you, and we want and need what you have to offer. It’s not your business why.
“‘I am sorry I am not the girl with the golden crown.’ The insecure girl said.
The boy put his arm around her.
‘But you are the one with the silver wings.’”