The myth of being “good enough”

“Am I good enough?” is a question I’ve asked myself a thousand times.

But maybe the question I should have asked was: “When did you learn that you weren’t?”

I don’t remember anyone telling me I wasn’t good enough, but somehow, I felt it. Early on, I learned that being good enough meant exceeding expectations. Overachieving. Getting things right. I learned that being good enough meant being brilliant and hardworking. But sometimes, it just led to more obligations and responsibilities.

Somehow, being reliable and resilient meant I was expected to take on more. That I had to do better, go further and then keep going. I learned that being enough meant figuring things out and never needing help. But all that taught me was that maybe I didn’t deserve support, care or protection.

At times, good enough felt aspirational. Something I could work toward, but never quite reach. Other times, good enough felt impossible. A bar I would raise myself every time I got close. I started confusing being enough with being exceptional. That maybe if I just aimed higher, I’d never fall short.

But when I finally took a step back, I started to ask “Who decides if I’m good enough?”

No one has ever lived my life before. No one else knows what I’ve had to survive. What I had to unlearn. What it took to get here. These days, I no longer believe I have to earn rest. I know now that I don’t need to prove my worth, to be seen, understood or celebrated.

So maybe good enough was never my destination. Maybe it’s where I was suppose to begin.

Maybe I am good enough. And maybe I always was.