Tuesday, November 2, 2010


I'm probably the single most insecure woman you've ever met. Stephanie and I were laughing together over the Beth Moore book on Insecurity recently and how the sure sign you need to read the book is whether or not you can leave it on the front seat of your car without worrying someone will see it and think... "Poor girl, she's insecure."

And that's the even funnier part, we're all totally insecure to some degree. It's a FACT. I don't say it's funny like haha, so hilarious to laugh at other's misfortunes, but funny ironic that one of the things we share in common most is the one item of great conversation we're too afraid to approach together. There's plenty of reasons for why not too, there's the fact you'll be exposed and lose the beautiful front for which you've maintained everything "together". Another reason that comes to mind is more internal, having to admit to yourself you're not perfect, able to do everything and are really not so invinceable after all, that's HARD to admit. So in my hopes that somewhere in my journey, I can find a way to manage this insane insecurity, to not let it hold me back in my life anymore, I'm coming clean.

From an early age, I was homeschooled by my mom with my brothers. I spent most my days writing scripts for movies, reading Nancy Drew, cleaning my room, lip synching to Amy Grant and the B-52's in my room, playing pretend in the backyard, and making movies with the family VHS camera. And even though we were involved in absolutely everything, there's still a part of me that felt completely and grossly different, not normal. It's pretty hilarious when throughout the years, people'd find out we were taught at home, their first response a puzzled look and a stuttered "But but but... you're so well socialized." I think I longed to be normal? To not stand out at church or in our family, to worry about jr. high boys and do mounds of homework everyday. And sure God, go ahead and add a pair of long lanky legs, a caterpillar for an eyebrow and a airline employee dad who took us on fieldtrips to Europe and Central America, my quota for being normal now completely obsolete.

There's this stop sign in the neighborhood where I grew up. When I first got my driver's license, it wasn't there but after further neighborhood development, the city decided this 3 way intersection needed a stop sign. And I was adamantly against it. I'll tell you to this day, there's a sliver of rebelliousness and feeling of invinceability that fires from within me and I still slide slowly through that darned stop sign. Where does that come from, who do I think I am?

As a teenager, I remember one Friday afternoon sitting in the living room as my brothers and their friends raced around to get ready for a camping trip. I sat there, watching over the top of my book as they prepped and within me, I started allowing lies to built up from who knows where. "They don't want you to go. You're so boring. You are pretty lame that they never ask you to go." And as they headed out to leave, I followed behind them and slammed the door on the last person out the door. I then ran to my room sobbing over the top dramatic tears because of course, I was the victim in this situation. But why on earth did I just not ask if I could go too?!

A couple years ago, I experienced the most devastating miscommunication with a best friend resulting in complete removal of us in one another's lives. To say it rocked my core is an underestimation and even though I knew the truth of the matter, that we'd both contributed to the hurt, I believed lies and believed in some way I deserved all the pain.

I was in 5th grade the first time I remember being aware that I might be fat. I was in Michigan at a cousin's house, we were getting ready to go to the pool and she, a 7th grader, (who to this day I still look up to so much) looks in the mirror and swaying side to side, hands on hips says "I better get in the gym to get ready for swimsuit season." GASP. I sat there looking up at her and thought "Do we really have to worry about that?" But then I did too.

I wish I'd read the book "He's Not That Into You" in college, cause the boy I dated then just wasn't at all. Yet somehow I made sense of trying every desperate measure over and over again - you know the pattern - feign a life change reason to break up, crumble into an emotional upheaval, "No, we should never ever break up!" and then be crippled with overwhelming jealousy when I saw him in the cafeteria talking to other girls. I suffered pretty serious depression in college and often wonder how my efforts towards projects and my future would have benefitted had I just said "Let's be great friends." And meant it.

When my parents decided it was time to call it quits, I think at first my brothers and I more or less sighed a sigh of relief, glad to know one way or another. There's a part of me that will forever mourn the devastating loss of my parents' love for one another and even moreso, my identity as their eldest child. There's a feeling of failed responsibility to protect my family, to maintain the belief that our family was immune from such tragic life transition. I would love to walk into my childhood home and hear our haunting laughter, see photos and awards on the walls, smell my mom's home cooking, experience the security felt from walking into a place that represents your entire life...

I've received Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour and for as long as I can remember, my faith has been something I could never escape. It's what I feel most conviction for, more passion towards and complete peace of because I know God has a will for my life. I know He's a soveriegn God full of love and grace. And yet somehow there's this hollow section of my heart I continue to leave open for my insecurities. Within that insecurity is fear, denial, distrust, worry, selfishness and even anger. Taking hold and ackowledging this in my life has at least helped me give it a face and a name. The second part of the battle is taking the tools God has given me and fighting again this ugly Insecurity.

To claim out loud:

I am a daughter of the Most High King.

I am an amazing wife and capable of loving an incredible man.

I am a really stinking great friend.

I am a woman with curves and yes, need to be healthy and not let myself go. And that's ok!

My identity and history doesn't lie in some photos on a wall, but in the legacy my Father in Heaven has set for me.

I am a great sister and love my brothers and sisters more than I can express without becoming completely emotional. That goes a long way.

God not only restores family, but can also bring more members throughout time in unique ways and bless you abundantly if you choose to accept it.

I question it everyday. I question WHY ON EARTH He chose to put me at my job, but I have to choose to accept that for a season He's using an imperfect, insecure, and HOPEFUL Texas girl with awkward dance moves to do something at a radio station to remind you... in your ugliest most insecure places of life... you are not alone.



stacyaluthi said...

This post was absolutely amazing!!!

Thank you for sharing. TOTALLY ENCOURAGING!


Ragan Savedra said...

WOW Liz! Thank you for being transparent and vulnerable. What an encouraging sharing. Appreciate you!


Keri said...

I could have written that. Honesty is so beautiful on a woman....we should never leave home without it. Love you!

Natalie said...

I'm a complete and utter mess after reading this. I wish I could tell you how much I identify with so much of what you said, just know that I do. Thank you! Love you.

dennea said...

Big Sigh, that says it all. It is so freeing to write it down, see those words! I am going to do the same. confessing before God and all your brothers and sisters, that this is who I am and I believe in God and what he has made me and wants me to be. I want to be free!
thank you Liz,

Natasha M said...

Awesome post! Thank you for your honesty. I look at you as a woman who has it all together. It is re-assuring that these are common thoughts....

Sarah Taylor said...

I just nodded my head to this whole thing.

Laura said...

Liz, Wow that was an amazing to read. There are parts of that I can relate with you about. Thanks for being an amazing encourager through your blogs and through things you say on the radio.