Lisa O
Insecurity rarely announces itself directly. Most women who struggle with it don’t walk around saying, “I feel unworthy today.” Instead, it slips out in small habits, careful adjustments, and quiet fears that never fully go away. These behaviors come from somewhere — childhood, past relationships, or years of feeling like it’s safer to shrink than to take up space. None of this makes her weak. It just shows what she’s had to survive.
She apologizes for things that aren’t her responsibility.
She’ll apologize when someone bumps into her, when she asks for a napkin at a café, or when she expresses a perfectly normal emotion. It’s automatic, almost like a reflex, she doesn’t notice anymore. This constant apologizing usually comes from years of being told she’s “too sensitive,” “too demanding,” or “too much.” So now she plays it safe. She tries to soften every edge of herself before it even appears.
She asks for reassurance but can’t fully take it in.
When she asks, “Are you upset with me?” or “Are we okay?” she genuinely needs to hear the answer, but even when she gets reassurance, it doesn’t settle. She believes it for a moment, then the doubt slides right back in. It’s not that she thinks people are lying to her. She just hasn’t learned how to trust that good things stay. Unpredictable past relationships can make even the most sincere affection feel temporary.
She constantly compares herself to other women.
She’ll see a woman walk by and instantly evaluate herself against her — her looks, her confidence, her success, everything. She doesn’t enjoy doing this. It’s exhausting. But insecurity trains the mind to scan for ways you’re “falling behind” even when you’re doing perfectly fine. Other women aren’t her competition; they’re just mirrors for wounds she hasn’t healed yet.
She downplays her achievements because pride feels dangerous.
You can congratulate her on something genuinely impressive, and she’ll brush it off with “It’s nothing” or “Anyone could have done it.” She’s not being modest — she’s protecting herself. Somewhere along the line, she learned that standing tall invites criticism. So she shrinks her wins before anyone else has a chance to. It’s heartbreaking because she doesn’t realize how capable she actually is.
She avoids conflict even when it costs her emotionally.
Conflict feels like a storm she’s not sure she’ll survive, even when it’s something small. She grew up with conflict that exploded or relationships that fell apart afterward, so now every disagreement feels like a threat. She’ll silence herself, smooth things over, and absorb discomfort just to keep the peace. It’s not passivity. It’s self-preservation in disguise.
She overanalyzes tiny shifts in someone’s tone or behavior.
A short text. A slightly distant tone. A delayed response. None of these are inherently meaningful, but her mind turns theminto signs she’s losing someone. This hypersensitivity usually forms when you’ve been blindsided before — when someone changed overnight without warning. So now she watches for danger in the smallest details, even when she wishes she didn’t.
She has a hard time accepting compliments without feeling awkward.
You can tell her she looks beautiful, and she’ll laugh it off or insist she “just threw something on.” Compliments clash with the internal beliefs she’s carried for years. It’s uncomfortable because it challenges the version of herself she’s gotten used to. She’s not rejecting the compliment — she just doesn’t know how to let it sink in yet.
She worries that she’s “too much” for the people she loves.
She monitors her emotions, tones herself down, and tries to be the least burdensome version of herself possible. She worries that being honest, sad, passionate, or messy will push people away. This belief usually comes from relationships where she was told directly or indirectly that her needs were “too much.” So now she tries to make herself easier to love, even though she shouldn’t have to.
She second-guesses her decisions and asks for validation.
She might ask, “Does this sound okay?” or “Do you think I should do this?” over and over. It’s not insecurity about intelligence — she’s probably incredibly smart. But she learned to distrust her own instincts. Making choices feels risky because she’s been punished, mocked, or dismissed for her decisions before. So validation becomes a safety net that steadies her.
She overexplains to prevent misunderstandings.
If she texts something simple, she’ll add paragraphs of context so no one gets the wrong idea. When she makes a request, she apologizes three times and gives five disclaimers. She’s terrified someone will misinterpret her tone or intentions, because she’s dealt with people who twisted her words before. Overexplaining is her shield against being misunderstood or judged unfairly.
She assumes someone is upset with her even without evidence.
A quiet friend. A neutral expression. Someone not texting back for a few hours. She instantly wonders what she did wrong. Self-blame is her default, not because she thinks she’s always at fault, but because she spent too much time around people who made her feel like she was. Even silence can feel threatening to someone who’s used to walking on emotional eggshells.
She hides her needs because she’s afraid of being a burden.
She’ll tell people she’s fine when she’s overwhelmed. She’ll carry heavy emotional loads alone because she doesn’t want to inconvenience anyone. She thinks that needing help will make people see her differently — less independent, less lovable, less easy to deal with. She helps everyone else without hesitation, but when it comes to herself, she thinks she has to go without.
She gets defensive when she feels judged or criticized.
Even a gentle comment can hit her the wrong way. She reacts quickly because the criticism touches old wounds, not because she wants to fight. People who grew up constantly criticized learn to expect attack, even when it isn’t there. Her defensiveness is protection, not pride. She’s trying to guard whatever self-worth she’s been able to rebuild.
She overthinks her appearance before going anywhere.
Getting ready becomes an emotional marathon. She worries about being overdressed, underdressed, judged, noticed, ignored — everything at once. It’s not vanity. It’s older than that. It’s the fear of being evaluated in a world that constantly teaches women they’re only as valuable as how they look. Her insecurity turns every mirror into a test she doesn’t want to take.
She avoids trying new things because failure feels personal.
Trying something new feels risky because she doesn’t separate failure from identity. If she fails at something, insecurity whispers that she is the failure. This fear can keep her from learning, exploring, or taking chances she secretly wants to take. Underneath it is a longing to grow — but also a deep fear of proving her doubts right.