My Kryptonite

For longer than I’d like to admit, I’ve allowed my kryptonite to plague me. She was a kryptonite for my self-esteem and confidence, a manifestation of my fears and insecurities materialized and wearing an attractive and nearly perfect outfit (attractive, sexy, fearless, talented, confident, sophisticated, charming, sweet, daring, kind, caring, patient, and likable, a good friend in spite of her actions, worldly, and the envy of most girls). I finally realized that she was never my kryptonite; I was. I am. I just shifted my focus onto her. She was just some bitch in my way that distracted me from the real source of my insecurities.

I never lived in the moment and focused on everything that wasn’t in the here and now, everything and anything that wasn’t within me like her. I was jealous and envious of her confidence, success, her resources, and how easily things came to her. I never stopped to consider that the pretty smile concealed her insecurities and doubts. I’m not glad that things are difficult to her, but now that I relate to her, I’m no longer intimidated by her. It is a relief and an eye-opener because even though she was never the source of my problem, she clearly crippled me. Or, more accurately, I allowed her to cripple me.

I’m starting to realize the value of being able to connect with people. I am a little disappointed that it required me to see her flaws in order for me to be immune to her. It shouldn’t have taken a look into her dark side in order for me to realize that she’s just like the rest of us, that she’s human. After all, the side we expose isn’t what’s always on the inside. We share glimpses of our inner senses, but few of us even know who we even are. Our subconscious protects us from it, and we’re so caught up in everything else that we neglect to focus on the important things.

I should know better than anyone that our exterior isn’t reflective of how we really feel. I give the impression that I have a strong sense of self, but it’s more of an act than anything. You wear a mask often enough, it becomes believable and it can become you, but that’s yet to happen for me. It’s because I can’t be someone I’m not, no matter how much I want it or how much I try; I can never be someone or something I’m not. But how I portray myself is how people will receive me, so it’s important that I’m open about it.

Or else it starts to skew my own judgment. I start forgetting how insecure and self-conscious I am, too, not because I’m no longer that girl but because I hide a part of who I am. How can I expect to grow and evolve as a person if I can’t even face who I really am? “Remember that failure isn’t my enemy, fear and negativity are.” I can’t explain enough how much t hat applies to me. And yet I’ve ignored this reality for far too long.

I feel like I can’t talk about these things with so many of my friends because they’re skeptical about the idea of me having doubts. I don’t want to validate, defend, and convince my friends of how I really feel, in hopes that they’ll be receptive and comforting. It’s not their burden to bear. It shouldn’t be anyone’s burden to bear, really. Most importantly, this is something I have to deal with internally. I’ve always known this, but it’s become painfully clear recently. Someone who can read me made me realize how much I was hiding from myself. I’m not really sure what the next step is or what I want. But for the first time in my life this unawareness doesn’t frighten me.