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Insecurity

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Everybody Smile.

Hi everyone. It’s my turn to thank you guys for all the support you’ve shown us here. 5 nominations at the Nigerian Blog Awards, that’s just amazing. Use the link: here to vote and keep showing us your love. Thanks again. On to today’s post then. Enjoy.

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“Everybody smile..!”

I stretched my lips into a wide smile. There. Nobody’s was brighter.

Now, will you leave me alone?
But, of course not.

The hugs. The platitudes. The chatter.

Yakking. Babble. Prattle.

I clenched and un-clenched my fingers.
“Excuse me, please.” I said to the friends clustered around me that had been going on about nothing for the past few minutes.

I didn’t wait for a reply; just walked out of the crowded room with my head bowed. Refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

I walked to the kitchen. Raised voices greeted me. Rola and Segun were fighting again. I sighed and climbed the stairs.

Getting to Jon’s room, I walked in and locked the door softly behind me. I ignored his massive elegant bed and crumbled to the floor. My back against the smooth mahogany door.

The door was thick enough to muffle the sounds drifting up the stairs. I took off my expensive shoes and let out a long deep breath.

Whooosh.

I picked at the hem of my navy blue dress and the reason for this gathering glinted back at me. My engagement ring.

I see my friends eye my 5’9″ frame in envy. I see my friends eye my 6’2″ fiancé with envy. I see them eye my 5-bedroom soon-to-be house. I see them eye my very successful PR job.

Heck, everybody wants to be me. Beautiful, successful, engaged at 25.

So, why am I scared? Why is this numbing fear gnawing at me?

All good things come to an end. Jon and I laugh at that song. What he doesn’t know is that deep down, I believe this..

My insecurities assail me at every corner. What if I’m not a good-enough wife? Mother? What if I die? Worse, if Jon dies? What if we fall out of love?

What if? Silly as it sounds, it has a deathly grip on me. Jumps on me at the oddest moments, taking away my breath. Leaving me wheezing.

Too good to be true. To last. Nothing can be perfect. Right? What will it be? It terrifies me that I can’t answer this.

A soft knock on the door made me sigh again. I’d been found.

“Babe? You in there?” Jon’s husky voice reached out to me. I loved it when he called me babe.

“Yes.” I didn’t move.

“You coming out? Your sisters are here.”

I said nothing. “I love you, Jon..”

Jon was quiet. “I love you too..” More silence. “Why won’t you talk to me? Tell me what’s wrong, babe.. We’ll work it out together.”

A tear slipped down my cheek. I brushed it away roughly.

Where do I start from? What do I say? How do I tell him without him feeling somehow responsible? He doesn’t put pressure on me. And no, I don’t have low-self esteem.

I can imagine Dupe laughing it off; ‘What do YOU have to be insecure about?’

It’s just.. I’m too realistic, pragmatic to believe in this fairy tale.

“Just tired. I’m coming out.”

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Most people might not admit it but the picture painted above captures a lot of lives out there. Many women (and men too) go about with suppressed emotions. Insecurity and perhaps depression hidden behind smiles. My question is this, do you think our culture/society encourage this? If not, what other factors can you think up. You know the drill, use the comment box and speak your mind. Ciao.

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