I’m Good Enough, And I Always Have Been

It took me years to realize I’m not a broken human who needs to be fixed, piece by piece.

It took me several years to reach my current state of mind. But I’ve recently found contentment in both my appearance, career, and life. Photo taken by the author’s family and used with permission.

I was ten years old the first time someone told me I wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t meant to hurt. My teacher said she was just giving advice. Like pointing out a piece of spinach in someone’s teeth.

“You could have better grades if you just tried harder,” she said.

I nodded like I understood. Like I agreed. But inside, I froze.

I came home, sat on my bedroom floor, and stared at the report card. Average. That word stuck to me like a stain. I kept reading it, hoping it would change if I looked long enough. But it didn’t.

I replayed all the late nights spent on homework, the times I raised my hand in class, the gold stars I’d collected on spelling tests.

Wasn’t that enough?

Apparently not. So, I started to feel like I was falling behind. Like I couldn’t catch up, and the report card confirmed I wouldn’t amount to anything. From then on, it stopped being about what people said to me and became all about what I said to myself.

I’m falling behind.
Everyone’s doing better than me.
Maybe I really am just average.