When Am I Enough?

Or, when do I also turn into a crazy lady who doesn’t trust herself?

See that photo over there: a photo of this strong, powerful, athletic, happy girl—she’s caught a touchdown with that ball but all she sees in a picture posted on the internet is that fold in her stomach. What the hell?!

Is she crazy?

That’s me. When is just being me enough?

One of my favorite quotes is “The secret to having it all is loving what you have.”

SO DO IT THEN, LYSSA. GRATITUDE LIST UP, I demand of myself (I’ve been Feel Good Friday-ing for over 5 years now). I’d say a good 90% of the time, I can be so incredibly grateful for the gifts I’ve been given, and my body is chief among those gifts.

Then 10% of the time fear and doubt and fear and mostly fear creep in and all the sudden I go from happy and confident and at peace to a fucking nut job.

I think everyone must do this. Or maybe they do it even more often. Or they turn to other things.

I turn into a nut job who thinks that despite every indicator to the contrary, she will never be truly successful, will always be the fat bridesmaid—worse(?), the single bridesmaid, will never fall madly, deeply in love. This crazy lady blames different things at different times: her body, sometimes, her heart, sometimes, her expectations, her success (the irony!), her determination, drive, intelligence, or wit.

So how does a loving, successful, determined, intelligent, funny person turn into an insecure nightmare? When we let that crazy self-doubt sneak in and steal—sabotage!—our happiness.

Just being me is enough when I let it be. When I accept the moments, just moments, of insecurity, observe them, and let them pass. I may get confused, but in the end I am enough.

Because me just being me is always enough.

Category: Psych

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