Insecurity isn’t a flaw. It’s a signal — an intelligent one. It rewires the way we behave. Whether it comes from within or from the outside world, understanding its roots can change how you live, choose, and respond.
Insecurity is one of those quiet forces that shapes our lives far more than we realise. It's not always the loud inner critic shouting in your head - it can also be the subtle tension in your body before you speak up in a meeting, the hesitation before you take a chance, or the way you push yourself harder than you need to just to prove a point.
Insecurity isn’t a flaw. It’s a signal — an intelligent one. It shows us where our sense of safety and self-trust has been disrupted. Yet insecurity doesn’t come in a single form. Some insecurities are circumstantial and ease once we feel reassured. Others are ingrained, echoing through our thoughts and behaviours no matter how much reassurance we get.
Recognising which one we’re dealing with is powerful. Because the way you relate to each type determines whether you stay stuck in protection, or move towards growth.
This is the insecurity that wakes up in social situations: when you sense disapproval, criticism, or exclusion. It’s the part of you that worries about how others see you.
Imagine giving a presentation and noticing someone scrolling through their phone. Instantly, your mind floods with stories: “I’m boring”, “I shouldn’t have done this”, “They regret inviting me.” That’s external insecurity in motion — your nervous system interpreting social signals as potential threat.
It’s easy to label this as overreaction, but in reality, it’s deeply human. Neuroscience research shows that social rejection activates the same brain regions as physical pain (Eisenberger & Lieberman, 2004). Our survival once depended on belonging, so when we sense disconnection, the brain triggers a pain response to get us back to safety.
The trouble arises when our self-worth becomes too dependent on those external cues. When validation is our main source of stability, we’re forced to monitor every expression, every tone of voice, every silence. It’s like trying to steer your life by the shifting winds of other people’s moods.
Internal insecurity doesn’t need an audience. It’s the quiet background hum that whispers, “I’m not enough”, even when everything looks fine.
It often begins early. A child who’s criticised, compared, ignored, or pressured to perform learns that love and safety are conditional. Over time, those experiences crystallise into beliefs about the self: “Something is wrong with me”.
That belief doesn’t just live in the mind — it seeps into how we interpret reality. A neutral comment sounds like disapproval. A delay in response feels like rejection. The world becomes a mirror for the wound.
Unlike external insecurity, internal insecurity doesn’t fade easily with reassurance. You can be loved, praised, or successful and still feel unsafe. Because the source of threat is no longer external — it’s inside, encoded as a pattern of self-protection.
Many coping mechanisms grow out of this: perfectionism, overachievement, emotional withdrawal, people-pleasing. They’re all attempts to control the environment so that old pain isn’t triggered again. But control is a poor substitute for inner safety.
When insecurity takes hold, the body reacts before the mind does. Muscles tighten, breathing shallows, and cortisol — the stress hormone — surges. Studies in compassion-focused therapy show that chronic self-criticism keeps the stress response active and limits access to the calming, “soothing” system of the brain (Gilbert, 2010).
That’s why telling yourself to “just be confident” rarely works. The nervous system doesn’t understand logic — it understands safety.
Healing insecurity isn’t about erasing it. It’s about understanding what it’s protecting.
When insecurity surfaces, instead of fighting it, pause and ask:
“What is this part of me trying to protect?”
“Is this fear about now, or is it an echo from before?”
Simply identifying whether what you feel is external (triggered by the moment) or internal (rooted in old belief) creates distance from it. You’re no longer in the insecurity — you’re observing it. That’s the first step toward freedom.
Then, bring the body into the process. Slow, conscious breathing. Grounding your feet. Placing a hand on your chest to remind the body it’s safe now. These small acts calm the alarm system and make deeper change possible.
From there, therapies that work on the subconscious root of the issue — such as Rapid Transformational Therapy® — can help uncover and transform the beliefs that created the insecurity in the first place. The goal isn’t to erase vulnerability, but to re-establish trust between your conscious and subconscious mind.
Insecurity isn’t the enemy. It’s the body’s outdated way of saying, “I don’t feel safe”. When we listen to it with compassion rather than judgment, it becomes a doorway rather than a wall.
As inner safety grows, the need for external validation softens. You can still value feedback, affection, and recognition — but they no longer define you. You begin to act from clarity rather than fear, from choice rather than defence.
That’s what self-trust truly is. It doesn’t mean you never feel insecure again. It means insecurity no longer decides for you.
If you’d like to explore how these inner patterns shape your confidence, or how to work through them on a subconscious level, you can learn more about this approach and my work by booking a free consultation call with me.
Eisenberger, N. I., & Lieberman, M. D. (2004). Why rejection hurts: A common neural alarm system for physical and social pain. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 8(7), 294–300. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tics.2004.05.010
Gilbert, P. (2010). Compassion Focused Therapy: Distinctive Features. Routledge.