I am secretly insecure. About a lot of things. Sure, I’m the chipper, go-to gal amongst all of my friends and family, too. I’m always ready to lend a helping hand, whether it be running your errands for you, to babysitting your kid, to helping out with homework or housework or yardwork. Optimism is my middle name, mostly. I always have a ready smile and I always have something to laugh about.
But deep down, WAY deep down the darkness known as fear weaves me in a tighter web. I think this is the source my anxiety feeds on. This internal fear that I hide away so well from so many people that they don’t even know I have this problem until someone I’m close to (like my mother, for instance) tells them.
What am I insecure about? Many things. I’ve touched on them briefly in previous posts. Like how I’m 25…
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