insecure man

By, Alisa Yardley

The insecure man sees a woman who is everything he wishes for. She bears the glow of youth in her smiles, her laughter, and the way she practically floats when she walks because there is always light in her. She is full of empathy. When he needs her to be soft and yielding, she is there waiting with her arms open for him. When he needs her to be strong she is like a centre post digging herself into place so he can lean on her. Never minding. Never seeing him as weak. Only seeing his willingness to be vulnerable as a beautiful expression of love and trust. 

But the insecure man cannot trust the reality of what he’s found. He cannot believe himself worthy. He has been hurt before, so he begins to look for thorns under the skirts of her flowery petals, until he finds it: a single imperfection - proof that she cannot be as she is. He points out her fallibility, and she removes the petal from herself. After all she has many more and he is right… she isn’t perfect. She isn't flawless. 

He looks at her again, and he is so taken by her beauty and charm, he realizes other men may also be taken. He worries her love is not real, so she loves him more hoping he will believe. Hoping he will trust. But he doesn’t trust. Because he doesn’t trust himself. He reminds her that even though she removed the faulty petal, he still sees it. He still knows where it was. What’s more, he says, everyone else knows it too. 

He holds his flower up to the light only to show the rough, torn edge of where the missing petal was, and as he does, as he berates her, another petal spontaneously drops to the floor. And he sees that too. He sees how his words affected her. He sees how he is wounding her, and he becomes angry. Angry at himself, and angry with her for reacting to him. Angry with her because the petal fell. He thrusts it back in her direction, and realizing she can’t put it back, he feels a sudden awareness. And he cherishes her. For a moment. 

She starts to laugh. She starts to smile. She shows her beauty in the sunlight again. It makes her glow. Being cherished and cared for, makes her radiant, and soon they forget the missing petals. And he becomes unsettled. Their closeness creates a fever in him, and he wants, no needs, to get away from this feeling that he can’t control. 

He tells himself her joy and love are a facade. He sees his own imperfections and lives in terror she will see them too, so he goes away, and while he is gone she gets cold. And another petal silently falls away. Until inevitably she is left like a flower after a stormy night… petals missing. Others torn. Her life force suddenly seems bleak. He knows if he wants his flower to recover she will need special care. He will need to tend to his flower carefully. He blames the storm, never recognizing he is the storm. He blames the flower. Never acknowledging the very beauty he was drawn to, is the beauty he called imperfect. 

He fails to see the storms she has already survived to be there with him. He sighs and says no flower ever lasts. He calls her needy. There are other flowers, he says. Brighter flowers. Light on their feet, who laugh and smile, and open their arms, and hold strength for him. What good is she to him now, he asks. 

He looks at her, sees the wear and tear, and calls her too much trouble. He discards her, and finds a new flower. This one is perfect, he tells himself. She laughs at all my jokes. She is full of life. She is magnetic and lovely. And he forgets all about his previous rose. She changed, he tells others. She wasn’t a real rose, he claims. She always was a mess, he says. 

And secretly behind the smiles, behind the laughter, his new flower looks a little bit different. And when you look close, you see it: one missing petal… 

Do not hide in shade what belongs in the sun. Do not deny drink to the thirsty. Do not deny food to those in your care. And if you do, if in your fear, you crush that which cannot be repaired, understand that all things die when denied what makes them live. 

Insecurity, fear, and projection, are poison to love, safety, and fulfillment. What is worth having, is worth treasuring, and what you treasure tends to outlast that which you do not, in my opinion.