The Insecurities I Refused to Carry Into My 30s

Hey my beautiful readers!! ✨ It’s been a little while since I last wrote here, and I hope you’ve been doing well, finding small joys, and taking care of yourself in between the chaos of everyday life. I’ve missed sharing my little world with you, and I’m so happy to be back with this post.

This August, I stepped into my 30s...and to celebrate, I wanted to do something that felt true to me.

A creative little love letter to this new chapter of life, and instead of just celebrating once, I wanted to mark it in my own way.😉

So I launched a little signature series on my Instagram called The Summer I Turned 30, inspired by the show The Summer I Turned Pretty (which itself is based on a book series by Jenny Han).

The idea? To release one ‘episode’ every Saturday where I reflect on my 20s, what I learned, what I’m bringing with me into this new decade, and what I’m finally leaving behind.

It’s a 6-part series, and so far I’ve shared four episodes. But here’s the thing: episode 4 felt too big to keep inside a reel. There was so much more in my heart, waiting to be written..So here I am, turning that episode into this blog post - writing my heart out, in the hope that these words reach the people who need them most.

It’s strange, isn’t it? How the compliments fade so quickly, but the negative careless remarks about our appearance stay stitched into memory for years. I can’t recall every nice thing I’ve been told, but I can replay almost every cruel comment word for word.

As children, we see beauty everywhere.

Crooked teeth can make someone look like a wizard, a big nose might remind us of a fairy in a storybook, a scar might be the mark of a superhero.

But somewhere along the way, the world teaches us differently.

Suddenly, those same quirks turn into “flaws.”

Suddenly, what once felt magical is reduced to something ugly.

And the worst part? We believe it.

I did.

And that's how insecurities are born.

Every joke about my nose.

Every comment on my body.

Every time someone noticed a crooked smile more than the laugh behind it.

Through most of my 20s, I carried those labels as if they were facts.

I remembered every cruel comment louder than any compliment. None of these moments seemed huge at the time, but together, they built the mirror I saw myself through.

And once you start looking into that mirror, it’s hard to see yourself any other way.

And here’s what makes insecurities even trickier: most of the time, they stay hidden until something triggers them.

A photo, a careless word, or a person treating you in a certain way.

And once they’re there, they don’t just shape how you see yourself - they shape the decisions you make, the risks you take, the way you let others love you.

And for the longest time, I thought those whispers in my head were mine.

But they weren’t.

They were echoes of other people’s insecurities, passed down, repeated, and believed until they sounded like truth.

Sometimes they even came from people I loved, family members who probably didn’t mean harm.

That’s how subtle it is.

And I guess that’s one of the cruelest cycles of all: these insecurities don’t just appear out of nowhere.

They get handed down like heirlooms from one generation to the next, unless someone chooses to break the chain.

For most of my 20s, I didn’t even realize how heavy those insecurities had become.

They dictated how much space I thought I was allowed to take up, how freely I could laugh, how fully I could be myself around others.

I thought I was being cautious, but really, I was just living in the shadows of someone else’s projections.

I remember telling my dad quite a few times, half-jokingly, “I got this big nose from you. I wish I had Mom’s nose instead.” In those moments, I even mocked him a little, something that, looking back, I feel tender regret about.

I didn’t realize it back then, but that was me already carrying the world’s definition of beauty in my hands. I blamed him for a feature I thought made me less. Looking back now, I see it differently.

Somewhere in my late 20s, I began to ask myself: Who decided these were flaws? Who got to write that rulebook?

As a society, people created their own perceptions and told the world that beauty means having a smaller nose, plump lips, clear skin, or a certain type of body.

And over time, I’ve seen those definitions shift too...just because one confident person dared to define beauty in their own way. That confidence spread, became a trend, and then another person added to it, and so on.

So why can’t I make my own beauty?

Why can’t I define what beauty means to me?

I don’t want people to follow my standards, but I do want to inspire them to follow their own, to flourish in their own unique ways.

And at the same time, to respect other people’s definitions instead of labeling them.

And I dare to say this: I dream of a world like that. Or better yet, I aspire to inspire people to build it..a world where uniqueness is celebrated and comparison fades away.

Realizing this, and making it one of my visions, changed everything for me.

That’s when I started setting the labels down.

And stepping into my 30s, I chose not to bring them with me. These were the insecurities I refused to carry.

And here’s what I’ve learned: insecurities may be loud, but they aren’t the truth.

The truth is this: my beauty is not defined by someone else’s definition of beauty.

When someone appreciates me, I want them to remember me for my own kind of beauty, not by some benchmark of perfectly defined standards. Because it is my uniqueness. And stubbornly, I do not intend to follow the herd to fit into those perfect beauty and body ideals.

I would rather defy the world’s perception of beauty than betray God’s definition of me...created in uniqueness, on purpose.

Because that nose? I really did get it from him. But not just the shape...along with it came his persistence, his resilience, his grit, and yes, even his dimpled smile. And somehow, that makes it my favorite part of me.

My smile...the one I used to hide, has carried me through storms. And when I finally let it shine, I realized it’s not just mine. It’s a little ray of sunshine for the people who love me. It gives them joy too.

And this beautiful body? The one I criticized in whispers to myself? It’s been there through every leap, every stumble, every comeback. It’s walked me into every room I’ve ever dared to enter.

A little reminder that what I once saw as a flaw was really a gift passed down... along with strength, grit, and love.

And if no one has told you today: you are uniquely amazing, exactly the way God made you.

Think about clouds...God didn’t make them perfectly shaped. Yet we stare at them in awe, take endless pictures, and let our imaginations run wild trying to name the shapes we see. They are beautiful in their uniqueness, not in perfection.

Or take the trees...no two branches grow in the same way. Some twist, some bend, some stand tall, some lean to the side. And still, we find shade under them, beauty in them, comfort in their presence.

God made everything in nature imperfect and yet deeply cherished. So how can you think you are not enough?

You are someone who is cherished by people you may never even know. I know I am... and you are no different. Admired quietly, inspiring others with your light, simply because you are you.💜

Over time, I also noticed how differently we accept criticism versus compliments.

A negative remark? We believe it in an instant.

A compliment? We take forever to trust it, if we do at all.

That’s because somewhere along the way, we subconsciously agreed to the limiting beliefs others handed to us. We’re always scanning for proof...and sadly, criticism fits the script we’ve been taught.

But imagine if we rewired our minds to do the opposite. To believe compliments instantly, to soak them in, to even write them down as reminders. To laminate them in our diaries if we must. Imagine what would shift if we chose to let the proof of our worthiness be the louder story.

That’s exactly what I started doing. It felt like putting on noise-cancelling headphones...tuning out the outside voices so I could finally hear my own. And once I did, the answers were so much kinder, so much clearer.

That’s how I left my 20s behind: heavy with insecurities.

And that’s how I entered my 30s: lighter, freer, and finally choosing my own definitions.

And maybe that’s where you come in too. What would it look like if you set one of those labels down? What might you carry instead?

And maybe it doesn’t have to be your 30s, or the ‘perfect timing.’ Maybe now is the right time.

If you’d like to see the videos from my signature series The Summer I Turned 30, you can check out my reels on the feed or the highlight “I Turned 30” on my handle. I hope you find a little spark of yourself in them too. 💛