My dear friends,

I’ve been thinking a lot about insecurities lately — mine, yours, all of ours. And I’ve come to this conclusion: if there is one thing that will have you questioning your sanity, your salvation, and your skincare routine all at once, it’s an insecure person.

You can affirm someone every day, twice on Sundays, and they will still look at you like you’re speaking in a foreign language. You can reassure them until your throat is dry, but you cannot secure another person’s insecurities. That is a personal renovation project — one that requires honesty, reflection, prayer, and sometimes professional help. It’s not something another human can complete for them.

And when insecurities go unchecked, they spill into everything. A simple “Good morning” somehow turns into a full emotional hostage situation. Every comment feels loaded. Every silence feels suspicious. It’s exhausting — for them and for everyone around them.

I read recently about six social needs from childhood that often show up in adulthood when we’re insecure:

Significance… Approval… Acceptance… Intelligence… Pity… and Power.

When I tell you this explained so people in my life including my own, I mean it.

Take significance. You’re in a casual setting, minding your business drinking luke warm coffee, and someone casually reminds the room that they practically carried an entire organization on their back for 20 years — and even in retirement, they’re still the person everyone calls. That’s not just storytelling. That’s significance quietly asking to be fed.

Or the man who makes sure everyone knows he works himself to the bone — sweat, tears, sacrifice — and that his family’s best life is built squarely on his shoulders. You can almost see him waiting for the applause he’d never directly request. It’s not wrong to work hard. It’s not wrong to be proud. But when the need to be seen outweighs the peace of simply being, that’s insecurity trying to dress itself up as strength.

Then there’s the one who doesn’t want pity exactly — just understanding. The story teller. They share their life story in an elaborate way to capture the hardships, sometimes the stories are told for sympathy, but more for validation. And instead of brushing it off, sometimes what they’re really asking for is someone to lean in and say, “That must have been heavy. Tell me more.” There’s a difference between attention-seeking and wanting to feel understood.

Here’s the honest part: insecurity in a man or a woman simply isn’t a good look. Not because it makes someone unworthy, but because when insecurity drives behavior, it distorts relationships. It creates competition where there should be partnership. It creates suspicion where there should be trust. It places pressure on others to constantly fill a void they didn’t create.

I can say this gently because I’ve lived it.

When I got married, I was an emotional rollercoaster. Not the fun kind. The kind that probably needed a safety inspection. I had fears I didn’t fully understand and reactions that didn’t always make sense. But I was given space to express them — without judgment, without being told I was “too much.” My husband’s steady foundation allowed me to actually confront what was going on inside me.

Lesson learned: insecurities don’t disappear overnight. There is no magic switch. They shrink through conversations, self-reflection, prayer, and choosing not to let fear make executive decisions in your life. It’s like cleaning out a garage you’ve avoided for years — you have to pull things out, look at them honestly, and decide what still belongs.

Insecurities don’t make us broken. They make us human. The danger comes when we attach them to our identity and let them dictate our choices, our tone, our relationships, and our future.

Scripture says, Perfect love casts out fear.” (1 John 4:18) Not perfect people. Not perfect circumstances. Perfect love. God’s love steadies what our emotions try to shake.

And I’ll add this one too: Search me, O God, and know my heart… see if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” (Psalm 139:23–24) That’s courage. That’s growth. Inviting God to show us what we might not see in ourselves yet.

If any of this sounds familiar, don’t panic. Growth isn’t condemnation — it’s invitation. Most of the time, the people around us can see our blind spots before we can. And if you have someone who lovingly points them out and walks with you through them, that is a gift.

I’ve had to sit with my own stuff. Challenge myself. Stop holding myself back. Start doing the things I love even when fear tried to speak louder. And slowly, the part of me that didn’t believe I was “enough” started getting stronger — not because I became perfect, but because I stopped letting insecurity run the boardroom of my emotions.

We’re all growing. We’re all learning. And if we can be honest about it — and even laugh a little at ourselves along the way — we’ll be better for it.

From Your Friend, It’s Me, Lorie