I told my husband today that I feel like a Dollar Store product.

You know—the kind that’s useful, sometimes even necessary, but never premium. Not the thing people show off. Not the thing they brag about. Just… there. Cheap. Replaceable.

And the worst part? Even if I dress differently—style my hair, wear the fancy sunglasses, tie the sweater around my shoulders like the women I see stepping out of a five-star restaurant and onto their yacht—I still wouldn’t feel like them. I might look the part on the outside, but inside, I still feel like the knockoff version. The “close enough” that never quite measures up.

It’s not about jealousy.

It’s about worth.

And I wrestle with it daily.

Maybe You’ve Felt It, Too

Maybe it’s imposter syndrome.

Maybe it’s the echoes of childhood trauma.

Maybe it’s the insecurity that came from years of not feeling financially safe.

Maybe it’s all of it, tangled into something I haven’t fully named yet.

Part of me wonders if I feel this way because I’ve never fit into the mold of what’s considered traditionally feminine. I don’t always feel “girly.” I love doing things that some would label as guy things—guns, hunting, dirt, grit. I’m hands-on. Rugged. Practical.

I’m also the queen of “making it work.” – Of using what I have, not what I wish I had.

I grew up with limited resources, and even though we’re financially stable now, my mindset never fully shifted. I still catch myself in that same “make it stretch, make it last” mindset. It’s like the struggle taught my brain something my circumstances no longer reinforce—but my heart still believes.

The Price of Believing You’re Not Enough

I know Jesus died for me. I know He would’ve done it even if I were the only human on Earth. I know this in my head. But my heart? Some days, it still whispers: “You’re not enough.”

And that whisper? It doesn’t just show up in the mirror.

It shows up in unexpected places—like my blog.

I’ve never even charged a subscription fee for my writing and struggle to price my books and services.

Not because I don’t believe in the words I share, but because deep down, I’ve struggled to believe people would want to support me. That they’d think I’m worth it.

But I’m learning that my value isn’t defined by who clicks “like,” or who pays, or who praises.

My value was set in place by the One who created me in His image.

From Dollar Store to Divine

God didn’t put more value in someone else’s bank account, waistline, social circle, or wardrobe.

He didn’t slide a secret scale across the heavens and decide some of us were just going to be Dollar Store quality and others made of gold.

He made us in His image.

That’s not Dollar Store.

That’s divine.

The Truth I’m Choosing to Believe

You are not cheap.

You are not replaceable.

You are not less-than.

And neither am I.

Even if we don’t always feel it.

Even if we’re still healing.

Even if we show up in camo and work boots instead of stilettos and a silk scarf.

We are loved by a God who doesn’t shop by brand or budget.

He doesn’t value polish. He values people.

And in His eyes, you’re worth dying for.

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