My instinct is to list all the ways I fall short (not smart enough, not pretty enough, not interesting, not talented, not skillful...) as if there would be some benefit to enumerating them, like some to-do list of self-improvement. But I am no longer young or naïve enough to believe this. I've been making this list as long as I can remember. All these years of effort come to naught
The question could be raised - not enough for whom? Because it has to be a whom, doesn't it, it's only people who judge these things. No matter how how much art (for example) there is in the world, it still doesn't have the power to decide who is good enough for it.
My mind scrolls back across the years, seeing myself through the eyes of parents, teachers, bosses, would-be lovers and friends - and seeing the dull disappointment there - "not enough."
You'd think I'd be used to it by now, that it would have strengthened my tissue paper heart, but no. It's still a raw wound every time, the same raw wound.
Maybe I'm just moody. It's been known to happen. Maybe it's the times, the constant upheaval, the cracked foundations. Maybe the specter of death that hangs over us all. It could be all these things and more. All I know is that I'm outclassed, overwhelmed, spent.
I'm so tired. A dried leaf, curled up, crumbling, longing to sleep.
The dark truth is that the "whom" you're wondering about is your shadow. It's the internalized bullshit and systemic oppression and abuse, nursed like filth in an oyster into a pearl of self-loathing. We all have one, they just vary in size and manifest in different ways.
ReplyDeleteIt's a fucking liar.
You rock.
Thank you so much, Tim. I'd never realized it before, but yes, you're right. The shadow self.
DeleteAll you can do is the best you can do. And, having done it, all you can do has to be counted as Enough.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Peni. It's true. I've just been having a rough time of it lately. While I know that everything is impermanent, some things have been far more impermanent than they used to be.
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