How to Fill Up

I have started examining the relationships in my life and the complexities, the differences, the similarities, the overlaps, the distances, and the utter awe of them. There are corkscrew curls, linear paths, and hairpin turns creating carefully crossed angles a web of connected communities which humans so badly desire and need.

The relationship-web which scares me the most is the one which I tend to weave myself, and it is the labyrinth of my relationship with my insecurities. It’s where the spirals become dizzying, the lines are deceitful, and the angles suddenly sharp. It’s where my insecurities are throwing only shadows but I am catching punches:

I’m not smart enough, so I’d better decorate myself with degrees and accolades, success and high grades. I’m not funny enough, so I’d better blanket that behind a barrage of jokes and an abundance of broad smiles. I’m lazy, so I’d better paint the portrait of constant work and a fully penciled-in schedule.

And so these decorations, these barrages, these portraits- they all act as Matryoshka dolls, as shells safekeeping the empty, dark shadows of an insecurity. They also carry an unforgiving weight and an unfortunate fate. Their very existence to hide my shadow-insecurities creates the opposing effect; the livelihood of the insecurity is brought into the light and quickly identified by the very shell which encompasses it.

Perhaps this is a truth for all of us. We present our Matryoska dolls to each other, hoping no one will sense the hallowness residing within. We can package our insecurities so well that others have no idea that the gift we provide is nothing but a falsified representation of what seems to be. 

Here’s the thing about those dolls, though. We coat the outside with those accolades, those smiles, and those penciled-in schedules. We spread a veneer so thick that we consider the insecurities hidden, and to the outside world, they may seem nonexistent. The veneer brings comfort. The veneer brings courage. It coats the vulnerability. We trick our self into thinking the veneer is strong and shatterproof, showing not a single chink and conceding to not a single crack.  We bravely and foolishly play cards that our hands do not hold; it’s that veneer that convinces us. We don’t see the chinks, don’t acknowledge the cracks, and we ignore the small starts of detrimental endings.

But maybe when that veneer cracks and peels away, and maybe when the shell which attempts to disguise our insecurity is without the protection of falsehood, the Matryoshka doll starts to crack and chink and chip and peel. And through these small starts, there are inspirational beginnings. We begin to fill the shell and eliminate the hollow.   

The filling up part is difficult; those hollow insides resist. It is by far easier to put more veneer on the cracks and chinks, to work from the outside rather than from the inside. And confronting shadows of insecurities can mean admitting that what once stood so permanently is in fact an illusion. Suddenly, the solidified definition of what ‘was’ evaporates, and we are left empty-handed and blindsided. We must admit that we have fooled ourselves for years. But, oh! We relied so heavily on those doll shells, and their shelter was vast and comforting, always inviting. Now, if we are confronting our insecurities, what will be our cover? How will we prove we are smart enough without the degrees and letters behind our names? How will we know we are funny enough without the confirming laughter of others? How will we know we are busy enough without a day which provides too few minutes? How will we know we are enough? When confronted with these heavy questions, we must fill ourselves. We must fill ourselves with just being enough.