I have been a huge fan of the author Nicholas Sparks for as long as I can remember, so when my husband mentioned the possibility of catching this North Carolina writer’s latest chick flick on the big screen I was thrilled. We decided to grab a bite to eat at Logan’s Steak House before the show started at 7:30, and our conversation took us down memory lane. Both of us dialogued about how former relationships had shaped us, and we agreed that freedom to be ourselves was the key to a successful marriage. Of course, at the time I didn’t quite understand the context of such a bold discovery. By the end of the night, this truth held a much deeper meaning.

We slipped into the theatre a few minutes late, and staying with tradition we gave our official thumbs-up or thumbs-down for each movie trailer that appeared on the screen. Chris whispered sweet nothings in my ear, and I felt like a silly teenager as we giggled our way through the opening scenes.

As Nights in Rodanthe slowly unfolded, I noticed Chris slipping into a comma. Earlier in the afternoon when he had suggested we go see a movie, he’d offered either Diane Lane and Richard Gere’s love story or Kate Hudson and Dane Cook’s rollicking comedy. I went with the Hollywood romance, and of course he obliged. One of his favorite movies is the Notebook, so I thought he would like this one too. Boy was I wrong!

My husband ended up sleeping through a large portion of the movie, and he had a look of utter discomfort on his face throughout the night. When the film concluded, Chris stated, “That was by far the WORST movie I have ever seen! Even the Bride of Chucky was better than that!” 

And here is where insecurity takes center stage . . . 

You see, I actually found the movie to be tolerable. It certainly wasn’t Nicholas Spark’s best work, and I wouldn’t say my attention was rapt, but I managed to follow the story line until the closing credits. The tragic ending left me feeling a bit depressed, and I could certainly see why my husband found the movie distasteful, yet before we were out of the theatre, I realized I was feeling small and insignificant. He had done NOTHING to make me feel this way . . . yet here was the ugly I-word creeping into my mind and holding me captive to my past.

For whatever reason, when my opinion collides with those I love and respect, all of a sudden I feel unworthy and unlovable. My old demons scream, “If you could just see things the way they do, you would be deemed acceptable!” Cognitively I realize Chris and I both have the right to hold contrary opinions, yet somewhere deep inside, I feel judged and condemned. Perhaps it’s my people pleasing nature trying to get the best of me, or maybe it has to do with all the years I spent denying my own wants and needs because I was afraid of being alone. Whatever the catalyst may be, I wish I didn’t let my fears overpower truth. Lack of self confidence is a pain in the ass, and hopefully someday I will learn to tell those damn voices to shut the hell up!

I would venture to guess that an alternate perspective doesn’t have the same power over you as it does me, but I’m sure there’s something that ruffles your feathers. So what causes you to second guess yourself? And when does insecurity manifest itself in your life?