by Esther Elizabeth Suson
I am noisiest on Twitter, but not usually to the point where the Tweets choke my followers with the showing-off (this is me speaking. My followers might have another perspective. They most probably do). But I should have known something was off when I started Tweeting about VIXX on a regular basis.
While those close to me (especially my workmates) know my deep affection for the K-Pop group VIXX, I am usually quiet about the group on social media. Stereotyping is harder to deal with over the internet.
There should have been an obvious culprit to my noise.
The next issues showed up over the weekend, over my “uncleaned” eyebrows. (The commenter suggested I might be mistaken for a gorilla.) I agree (and conveniently forget) make-up is a staple of the workplace, but leave me be for the rest, please. (Disclaimer: This is an emotion indigenous to the moment of writing.)
That’s not my normal response. I can normally tune it all out (some would say, including me, that that’s no way to treat the issue), but I couldn’t this time around.
Today after a resolved argument with a friend (I started it, apologized first, was forgiven), my overreaction was to plot out a series of blogs about nothing but the awesome epicness of my friendships. The bottom line of that series? My friendships are better than yours, people.
After I rejected that idea for its sheer boastfulness and the added question of how to keep my friends’ privacy intact, my next planned series of blogs was composed of “Spotlight” blogs on Grasshopper (a lovely Japanese movie about assassins) and High&Low (a lovely Japanese series about gangs).
Except I knew this blog series would be in reaction to when someone asked me if I was quite right in the head after watching a bit of ‘Grasshopper.’ (I still don’t know what the answer is.)
So I scrapped that idea and wondered what on earth I could write about, since I was a big bundle of offender and offended all at once.
Insecurity, of course.
Insecurity I can control, I thought. Everyone understands insecurity. Everyone has insecurity. Everyone can relate.
Up until the moment the insecurity turned into pride with teeth. Up until the moment I picked a fight with a close friend for absolutely no reason at all. Damage done to hide my fear of failure, to hide my fear of being different, to hide my fear of being absolutely ordinary. It woke me up in a hurry.
I mentally attempted to define myself by my affection for a K-Pop group, my stubbornness on the eyebrow issue, the beauty of my friendships, my attraction to weird and violent movies and series. It was an identity crisis that showed how terribly I grasp at straws when I forget who loves me and died for me (eyebrows? Seriously?).
Insecurity is a scary thing, especially for Christians, who may start to question their relationship with God when struck by that emotion. We forget He is our Father, that we are loved by Him, that His love is the foundation of our identity.
Our response: we choose to remember, we choose to remind ourselves of that fact. We choose to spend time with Him, choose to communicate with Him. Our relationship is one of love, and it thrives on shared time and communication.
And insecurity has no place in a relationship of love.