So there was this girl, and she struggled with never being enough.
She wasn't educated enough.
She wasn't successful enough.
She wasn't fit enough.
In related news, she couldn't seem to put down the box of cookies enough.
She resented the mistakes she'd made; there were many. She sometimes wondered if she would ever rise above them all and be like all those other people.
Oh, you know all those other people. Come on. Who are you kidding? You are those other people.
To this girl I'm talking about, I mean.
To her, you're the educated, successful, fit people who can put down boxes of cookies (and some of you can even not buy them at all, which is superhumanly impressive.) You're the people with nice jobs and fancy papers with your names on them hanging on your walls. You're the ones who get your kids to eat vegetables and take the family on vacations without wanting to turn them into a future prime time murder investigation special.
Those people. The ones who have it more together than her.
Those people. The ones who have it more together than her.
And this girl would watch those people, and wonder what she was doing wrong. She would hold her head down just a little when she met you for the first time, pray that you didn't ask the wrong questions, and skirt around the answers if you did. She became quite good at this verbal obstacle course.
This girl was scared, but didn't show it. She was nervous, but never let you see it. On the outside she appeared confident, composed and some would even say witty. She hid behind a smile and great hair (no, seriously. Super nice hair with the right products in it.) People would say, "Random Girl Who Is Not Maven, you're so awesome! Keep being you!" and that girl would say, "Well, yeah. Of course I'm awesome" as if they weren't telling her something she didn't already know.
Sometimes she almost believed it, too. She was very convincing. (Must be the hair. Very distracting.)
But then, when something big would happen, that girl would fall hard - probably harder than she would have if she hadn't stitched together a false confidence from the views of others. "Remember that time so-and-so said you were great?" *stitch* "And that other time your blog post that thing you said helped a lot of people and they thanked you for it?" *stitch stitch*
It was a beautiful fabric, though; a mosaic of compliments mirrored back at her. But it was not a solid fabric, and would tear when life got too heavy.
That girl had big plans, and she held onto those plans like she would Johnny Depp's... hand. The kids would get older and they would need her less and less. And she would find time - lots of time! - for other things. She would build a full-time career - like, a really good one that makes all the monies - and she would feel like she's contributing to society. She could be successful. She could be a grownup, like the rest of her friends. She could do more for her kids. Maybe she could even stop eating cookies.
As long as she followed through with those plans, she would be okay. And maybe, for once in her life, she could feel like she's on equal footing with the rest of the world. No more less than. No more those people, because she would finally be those people. And her thighs would get smaller and her kids would eat broccoli and life would be grand.
Except, of course, that things didn't quite work out that way. Life had other plans for her, at least for now.
The girl felt smaller than ever and incredibly frustrated. This was supposed to be her year. Her year! She had lined everything up, all the ducks or ponies or whatever. And then the ponies had startled and squished the ducks with their clumsy death hooves, and they ran away and there was no more line, unless you count the duck carcasses. Not cool, life and ponies. Not cool.
But as she munched on a box of cookies tucked unceremoniously under her arm, pieces of torn fabric lying all around her from her most recent fall to the bottom, she realized something: She didn't have to let her circumstances define her.
Maybe,
just maybe,
she had always been enough.
Maybe she had to stop looking to external accomplishments to validate her existence.
Maybe she had to stop scrutinizing her waistline every time she looked in the mirror like it was some kind of measurement of how worthy she is.
Maybe she had to redefine "success" so that it encompassed all the great things she already is.
Maybe she should stop comparing herself to those people, and take stock of just how much the world had already taught her and given her.
Maybe she needed to look at what she already gives the world, because she gives a lot.
Also, maybe being a grownup is highly overrated.
It would be easier said than done, of course. There would be many deeply rooted thought processes to undo. She would have to think about how to weed that old garden in her mind over cookies (maybe just one or two, though). The Great Undoing, she would call it. And it would be worth every step. Because the girl realized that living the way she had been all these years was no way to live.
She wasn't going to reinvent herself, but rediscover herself.
She wasn't going to get successful, but celebrate her existing success.
She wasn't going to feel less than other humans anymore, but learn to appreciate her unique role in the human experience.
She would soak up her children's hugs, her partner's smile, the laughter on her friends' faces every time she made a joke, the tears she wiped for others, she tears she shed for others, the kind things she did just because she can. And she would do this all, of course, with great hair. Those are the confidence builders, and the foundation of a life well lived. That stuff. The good stuff.
She would excavate and furiously polish the riches in her life until they gleamed. There were so many right in front of her the whole time, and yet all she had been doing was looking at what she didn't have; at what she wasn't, not what she is. And she, like all humans, is simply magnificent.
No, the girl wasn't perfect, she would never be perfect, but she was certainly enough.
As long as she followed through with those plans, she would be okay. And maybe, for once in her life, she could feel like she's on equal footing with the rest of the world. No more less than. No more those people, because she would finally be those people. And her thighs would get smaller and her kids would eat broccoli and life would be grand.
Except, of course, that things didn't quite work out that way. Life had other plans for her, at least for now.
The girl felt smaller than ever and incredibly frustrated. This was supposed to be her year. Her year! She had lined everything up, all the ducks or ponies or whatever. And then the ponies had startled and squished the ducks with their clumsy death hooves, and they ran away and there was no more line, unless you count the duck carcasses. Not cool, life and ponies. Not cool.
But as she munched on a box of cookies tucked unceremoniously under her arm, pieces of torn fabric lying all around her from her most recent fall to the bottom, she realized something: She didn't have to let her circumstances define her.
Maybe,
just maybe,
she had always been enough.
Maybe she had to stop looking to external accomplishments to validate her existence.
Maybe she had to stop scrutinizing her waistline every time she looked in the mirror like it was some kind of measurement of how worthy she is.
Maybe she had to redefine "success" so that it encompassed all the great things she already is.
Maybe she should stop comparing herself to those people, and take stock of just how much the world had already taught her and given her.
Maybe she needed to look at what she already gives the world, because she gives a lot.
Also, maybe being a grownup is highly overrated.
It would be easier said than done, of course. There would be many deeply rooted thought processes to undo. She would have to think about how to weed that old garden in her mind over cookies (maybe just one or two, though). The Great Undoing, she would call it. And it would be worth every step. Because the girl realized that living the way she had been all these years was no way to live.
She wasn't going to reinvent herself, but rediscover herself.
She wasn't going to get successful, but celebrate her existing success.
She wasn't going to feel less than other humans anymore, but learn to appreciate her unique role in the human experience.
She would soak up her children's hugs, her partner's smile, the laughter on her friends' faces every time she made a joke, the tears she wiped for others, she tears she shed for others, the kind things she did just because she can. And she would do this all, of course, with great hair. Those are the confidence builders, and the foundation of a life well lived. That stuff. The good stuff.
She would excavate and furiously polish the riches in her life until they gleamed. There were so many right in front of her the whole time, and yet all she had been doing was looking at what she didn't have; at what she wasn't, not what she is. And she, like all humans, is simply magnificent.
No, the girl wasn't perfect, she would never be perfect, but she was certainly enough.