Good Enough is Just Enough

I am constantly learning about who I am.  I am in never-ending change mode with my life, but I am happy to say I finally have stopped trying to be "good enough" for other people.  I spent my whole childhood and pretty much most of my adult life trying to be the person that other people would like and accept.  I was told by my father, I was stupid. I was told by my brother I was ugly and fat.  I was told by my mother I was too klutzy to be a dancer and too much of a tomboy to be a real lady.  I never compared to my brother by my parents and paternal grandparents. He was the golden boy, my mom's "baby" and I was the child that should have been aborted. 

My paternal grandmother said I was "too big" and she didn't really like girls.  I am an inch and a half short of six foot; the women on my father's side of the family were an inch short of five foot. My mom was considered a giant by her family because she was five foot seven, all of her cousins were mainly around five feet tall.  So family reunions were not my favorite thing growing up. I was the only redheaded girl, and always put at the back at family photos.  I am not artistically talented like my mom's side of the family, and I was the only girl in the family that was paddled at school for climbing the two-story school building.   I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up, my cousins wanted to be school teachers or professional dancers.  Actually, they are all school teachers or professional dancers, I'm the only one that missed fulfilling their childhood dream.  I still want to be an astronaut, I refuse to give that dream up.

In high school I tried my hardest to keep up with my brother and be someone he liked to be with. I learned how to rebuild cars, shoot guns, drive a truck, ride motorcycles, fly a plane and build a house.  If my brother did it first, I was right behind him trying to prove I was good enough to be his sister.  But no matter how I tried, I was still his whipping boy. He and his friends would give me the count of ten to start running before they would shoot me with the BB gun.  He would spit loogies on me, slug me, make fun of me, and pretend he didn't know me.  When the car would slide of the road, he would have me sit on the back for weight and as soon as he got traction and took off, I would go flying into a snow bank and have to run after him to get a ride.

But this isn't a sob story, I became stronger through all of this turmoil.  There were good moments in all of this, my brother and I stood strong for each other when times called for it.  No one was allowed to beat on him at school without having to answer to me, and he made sure I got a flower for homecoming and a date for prom.  We learned the ugly from my parents, I won't lie, but we learned to be there for each other because of the ugly.

I tried for 21 years to be "good enough" for a man who never loved me, and when I headed out on my own with my four kids I decided that they would always know they are good enough no matter what they do and I am proud of them.  I tried to be their biggest cheerleader, their rock and sometimes the tough mom when they needed it.  I wasn't perfect, I was still struggling with my past, but I was a hell of a lot better as a parent than what I had growing up.

I fight depression, it is a side effect of my past, and I spent many years trying to be good enough for the world.  It has only been recently that I have accepted me for who I am, in realizing I am perfect as I am, I don't have to prove anything to anyone.  

So if there is one thing I can give you, it is that you are perfect as you are at this very moment. You are good enough without having to change a thing.  Don't believe the ugly of putting your perceived shortcomings up against other people's perceived perfections. Perceptions are only rose colored glasses that hide the beauty of truth.  And truth? Truth is the beauty of who we are right now.