A Letter to Insecurity

So not too long ago, I graduated from a small school in a small town and, for the most part, I knew most everyone that came and went through those halls. Not because everyone knew me, but because that was just how Casstown was, and is, - you knew people, you had heard pieces of their story, you knew their names because your dad graduated with their mom or took their dad's cousin to Prom 'back in the day.'

There was a girl that went to that same school; we weren't ever in the high school together, but I recall hearing her name and seeing her smile at sporting events I still went to from time to time. She is related to two of my friends. But I only knew a couple of things about her. She was pretty. Not the kind of pretty that is made up and accentuated, but the really natural, deep down - just born this way - pretty. And she was incredibly kind. She still is. She's still pretty, too. Probably more beautiful now than she ever was then, but only because I know her heart.

But I didn't get to know this girl until recently, after stumbling across her blog and requesting to follow her on Instagram (hi, I'm steph and I've been basic for six months now.)

Reading her words and looking through her pictures led to coffee dates, long text conversations, and a snail mail relationship that rocks my world.

Her name is Whitney. And guys? She is just remarkable.

 She's a fighter. She loves Jesus with every inch of her skin and soul. She's getting married in September. She loves encouraging women and reminding them of their wild worth because of Whose we are.

She is a missionary, a cat momma, and she love her some coffee.

She is my sister. She is my friend.

She shares stories and struggles and how good Jesus is over on her blog. {Head on over and let her lift you up}

And tonight, she decided to drop the mic on something we all battle with everyday, even if we aren't readily admitting it.

I'm psyched for you to meet her and I'm honored she's the first guest blogger on Girl's Life in Ink.

Enough of me . . . check this out.

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Dear Insecurity,

We need to talk. And yes, you should be concerned.
 
To put it nicely, I’m over you.
 
I’m over the way you lead me into competition with my sisters. Judging beautiful women I’ve never met. I’m over the way you tempt me into comparison, never letting me celebrate my identity.

Quite frankly, you’re abusive. You’ve controlled me into avoiding circumstances that seem “unworthy.” You remind me how inadequate I am and how ridiculous it is for me to believe that I’m worthy of a beautiful life.

You’ve manipulated me every.single.night. as I replay images of my day. I pull my covers over my head, hoping to erase the memories of the “wrong” words I said or didn’t say.

 

You endlessly remind me that I must fight to “fit in,” no matter what it takes. If fitting in compromises friendships, health, and stability, so be it. You tell me that what others say about me, defines me.

I’m over our relationship, Insecurity. You’ve robbed me of far too many friendships and adventures. You’ve plagued me with fear and doubt and I’m over it.

We’re breaking up because I’ve found Someone better.

Someone who says I’m loved and worthy.

Someone who wrote my story and reminds me of My value; Who reminds me that I am BLAMELESS and Cherished.
 
So this is the end of us, Insecurity. You’ve been replaced.

 

This is Goodbye forever. There will be no reconciliation.

 Sincerely,

 Whitney Kindell