Just one tiny word with six little letters, yet it carries so. much. weight.
It started out innocently enough (haha, see what I did there?). When we were younger, sometimes we weren't old enough, or tall enough, or hungry enough.
As we age, though, something changes and that tiny little word takes on a whole new meaning. Suddenly, we wake up and we're not pretty enough, or thin enough, or smart enough, or funny enough, or dareIsayit good enough.
But, here's the thing--what does that even mean? What does it mean to be _______ enough? Where is this magic scale that supposedly tells us how we compare to the rest of humanity? What is the determining factor? Surely, there must be a Council of Enough that rates every person starting from the moment they are born. Let's see, Baby Johnson, you are a 7 and we hereby decree that you are enough. Unfortunately for you, Baby Smith, you are a 5 and therefore you are not enough.
This is ludicrous. Obviously, there is no "Council of Enough," but there might as well be. Somewhere along the way, in my 30 years on this earth, I decided that I was not worthy of happiness and joy and living my life, all because I just wasn't ____ enough. If only was thinner/funnier/smarter/more outgoing, then everybody would love me and I would be happier. What a big fat lie. I am a liar who has been lying to herself for decades.
My self-worth does not depend on the opinion of others. Did you hear that? Here, let me repeat it.
My self-worth does not depend on the opinion of others.
So here's what I've realized over the last week or so. I am enough. Yeah, I said it. I am ENOUGH.
I am who I am, and it's okay that everybody doesn't love me. It's okay that not everybody wants to be friends with me. Because--and I'm not sure if you heard me the first time I said this--I am good enough.