insecure

I was 7.

I had big feet and I ran slowly and disjointedly, my upper half going much faster than my lower half. I had long arms and a short torso and I was uncoordinated.

I tried hard. I wanted to be good.

I was insecure.

I was 10.

To play the position I wanted, I had to race my best friend to it. She was faster than I was, but I wanted it more. I'm pretty sure she let me win. I played by default.

and I was insecure.

I was 13.

Everyone was older then I was, better than I was. They had all played together for forever. They moved as a unit. I got cut. I worked hard all summer. The next year, I tried again. the coach told me he let me make the team because he felt bad I hadn't made it before.

And I was insecure.

I was 14.

I wanted to make varsity. People told me I wasn't good enough. But I tried hard.and I made it. Varsity as a freshman. I worked hard. I ran hard. I wasn't fast but I pushed myself. Every day. Hard.

And I was good.

But I was insecure.

I was 18.

My parents had just divorced and I was on my own in a world full of pretty girls and the boys who chose them. I went to class and tried hard. I was top in my classes most semesters.  But I went to parties and disappeared.

I was insecure.

I was 20.

I switched schools. I tried to fit in. I made friends with some shady people. Then I made new friends. I opened up in ways I never had. They accepted me. They loved me.

I was still insecure. 

I was 25.

They brought her into my room and put her in my arms. I sat, my husband by my side, and nursed my new born baby. I held her hand and she held my heart. My baby. My husband. And me.

And I was secure.