Enough
A dangerous word.
Growing up my hopes and dreams were set upon being enough. For someone, for anyone. For my family, my friends, my teachers. “Please,” I would pray in feverish whispers in the dark of night, “Let me be good enough, smart enough, talented enough, thin enough, pretty enough, lovable enough…”
Now as an adult, I still wonder when that will happen. Deep down inside, in that bruised secret-spot I ignore in the hopes that it will someday disappear, I still worry that I will never be enough.
I agonize over whether or not I am failing as a mother and wife. When I snap at my kids, when my husband throws his hands up in despair over the messy desk and piles of dishes in the sink, I hear that whisper again. “You are still not doing good enough.”
I want to be a writer, but I often find myself in front of my computer, staring at the wasteland white of an empty document and I am afraid to commit words to page. Because even though I think I can do this, desperately want to do this, in fact it is my dream to be a published author, I am petrified and struggle with that slippery inner voice. I have to tell myself over and over, if all of YOU are willing to come back for post after post I must at least have the smallest sliver of hope to succeed.
So I write. I sometimes have to push myself to sit here, but I do it. I thought I was getting a handle on all those niggling doubts but then a writer friend of mine offered to be a beta reader and scared me off again. I’m back to sitting and staring.
And there is this body. I have had issues with my weight for the last twenty years. I have ignored the mirror, unwilling to watch myself grow larger and larger, and until this year I’ve never really taken any significant steps toward change beyond wishing I were not so fat. Wishing, as you know, doesn’t get you very far.
Now I am making leaps and bounds in the weight loss arena. Last month I reached rock bottom and scared myself enough that I joined MFP and started working out every day. I have lost seven pounds in the past week. Now I find myself worrying if I will ever be fit enough. Will I really be able to lose enough weight to be a healthy person? I don’t even know what that is like. I find myself obsessing about the state of my skin. Is it too stretched out? Am I young enough for it to snap back at all or will it just… Hang. I should be focusing on my small victories instead of worrying about whether the end result will be enough.
Enough. That damn word has dogged me down every single path I’ve ever followed. I don’t need anyone else to bring me down. My entire life I have been my own worst enemy.
This beautiful photo is used with permission and belongs to Sarah of onestarrynight.com. Go visit and check out more of her work!
As women and wives, it is imbedded in us to want to make our men happy. Don’t forget that he gets frustrated with you, just as you get frustrated with him sometimes. And when you’re angry, you do the same thing and ask yourself, is HE enough? And you know the answer is yes. I’m sure he feels the same way, Joni <3
Joni Rae Reply:
August 18th, 2011 at 4:26 PM
Thank you so much! And you are probably right!
<3
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