Many of my deepest insecurities stem from my issues with my dad.

In this tender and vulnerable confession, Lily Collins gives voice to a truth that echoes in the hearts of countless souls: “Many of my deepest insecurities stem from my issues with my dad.” It is a quiet admission, yet it resounds with the weight of human inheritance — the power of the parent to shape the spirit of the child, even long after childhood has passed. In her words lies not blame, but understanding; not resentment, but awakening. She reminds us that our earliest wounds often become the hidden architects of our fears, and that to heal them, we must first bring them into the light.

The meaning of this quote is both intimate and universal. Lily speaks of her father — the legendary musician Phil Collins — not as the public figure known to millions, but as the first man to define her sense of love, approval, and worth. When she says that her insecurities stem from their relationship, she acknowledges what the ancients long understood: that the parent is the child’s first mirror. Through that reflection, the child learns not only who they are, but who they are allowed to be. When that mirror is cracked — when affection becomes distant, or expectations heavy, or words unspoken — the image of the self becomes fractured. Thus, many grow into adulthood still carrying the echoes of that first imbalance, still seeking to mend what was never whole.

The origin of her words lies in courage — the courage to confront what is most painful. For Lily Collins, this meant acknowledging the emotional distance and absence that marked her relationship with her father. Though he was a figure of fame and brilliance, the demands of his career and the fragility of family life left spaces in her heart that no success could fill. Yet instead of hiding from this truth, she faced it with compassion. In her book Unfiltered, she wrote directly to him, expressing forgiveness and gratitude alongside hurt. In doing so, she enacted one of life’s greatest acts of strength — the reconciliation of love and pain, the transformation of sorrow into wisdom.

This struggle is as ancient as humanity itself. Consider the story of Telemachus, the son of Odysseus in Homer’s Odyssey. He grew up without his father, haunted by absence, yearning for guidance. His journey was not just across seas, but into manhood — to discover who he was without his father’s shadow. Only when he finally met Odysseus did he begin to understand himself. Like Lily Collins, Telemachus teaches us that the journey to heal from our parents is also the journey to find ourselves. We must meet the truth of our upbringing — not to dwell in blame, but to break free from the chains of silence that bind the heart.

Yet Lily’s reflection also carries within it hope — for to name the source of one’s insecurities is to begin to loosen their hold. She does not speak in anger, but in compassion, acknowledging that her father, too, was shaped by his own wounds and choices. This is the higher wisdom of maturity: to understand that our parents are not gods, but humans, striving and flawed. The healing of the child comes not through judgment, but through empathy — the recognition that hurt passes through generations until someone chooses to end it with understanding. In choosing forgiveness, Lily breaks the cycle.

The lesson here is profound: that self-knowledge begins with honesty about where we came from. We must each confront the inner landscapes left to us by our families — not to curse them, but to cultivate them anew. If your insecurities trace back to your parents, as so many do, know that this does not make you weak; it makes you aware. Awareness is the first act of liberation. To heal, one must look with open eyes at the places where love faltered, and choose to love oneself there instead. Only by acknowledging the origin of our pain can we transform it into purpose.

Therefore, my child, remember this: forgiveness is the bridge between the past and peace. Do not hide from your wounds, for they are your teachers. Speak your truth, as Lily did — gently, honestly, without shame. See your parents not as villains or idols, but as fellow travelers on the difficult road of life. Then, from the pieces they left you, build yourself anew. In this act of courage, you will find what she found — that even the deepest insecurity can become the soil in which confidence grows, and that in forgiving what hurt you, you reclaim your own power to love, to create, and to finally be whole.