I am Not Good Enough

I think I promised myself that I would never write about my insecurities on here.

But I'm starting to believe that it's important to write about everything.

So here it is...

"I am not good enough."

It's that nagging voice in the back of your mind that reminds you of all the things you aren't good at and won't ever be. It's that weight in the pit of your stomach when you feel inadequate. 

And those nagging voices and heavy weights come a lot more often than we would like to admit. So we wallow in them, sometimes with screams and hot tears streaming down our face, sometimes with silence, sometimes with angry criticism of others... But none of it helps our crippling feelings of not being good enough. 

So then we fight back those feelings with words like "I am good enough. I am smart enough. I am pretty enough. I am spiritual enough." And on and on it goes... The never ending battle of us trying to convince ourselves that someone will love us if we are just enough of something or other. If we are just good enough. 

But you know what?

Screw the idea of good enough. 

You know what's good enough?

A  paper that you stayed up all night to finish because it's already late and it barely makes sense but it gets at least a C. 

An assignment you finished last minute but you have only 5 minutes left before class for you to print it and run to class so you can't make it any better. 

An outfit that looks okay but doesn't make you feel like a rockstar.

Eight hours worth of sleep that doesn't quite give you the rest you need. 

A joke you find hilarious but when you tell a friend, they only give a half-hearted laugh.

Accepting 2nd place because you couldn't get yourself to work harder to get 1st. 

That is good enough.

I am not good enough. 

I am good. I strive to be better but I am good. 

Good enough is what you settle for. 

I am not good enough. I am not something that you settle for. I am not just mediocre.

I have symphonies in my lungs.

Novels in my fingertips.

Adventures in my feet.

Encyclopedias in my mind.

I have lived a life that no one else has lived, that no one else can live. 

I am good. I am great.

This idea that we use the very same words to try to encourage ourselves and to accept something that is less than what we find desirable is absurd to me.

Why do we accept good enough as an idea of comfort?

It's not comforting to think that I am of the same caliber as a crappy paper or an ok outfit.

But I guess that's good...because I'm not of the same caliber, not even close.

We have to stop believing that we are just good enough.
We have to stop saying "I'm good enough" as something to comfort ourselves.

Because all at once we are utterly worse than we can ever think we are and greater than we give ourselves credit for. 

We have to stop believing that our attempts at good enough will make us lovable.

Because all at once we are not worthy of an ounce of love but yet have the 

the opportunity to receive the greatest love that anyone could ever know. 

I am not good enough but I'm starting to see that as a good thing.

I am good. I am great. I am more than enough. I am known. I am loved.

At the end of the day, if I am secure in the knowledge that I am loved, then I can be who I am intended to be, it doesn't matter who thinks I am not good enough... even if that person is me. 

Your Mess is Mine

My sister in law and I are addicted to an ABC Family show called Chasing Life. It's about a young journalist who battles with cancer and the show obviously has way more drama than necessary. I was catching up on the episodes I have missed over Christmas break. In one of the last episodes, one of the characters performed a cover of a Vance Joy song that I had never heard before. It's called "Mess is Mine". A friend is singing this song to April (the reporter with cancer). Here's the clip from the show (I would put the music video, but it's really weird and does nothing for this post).

"Hold on my darling, this mess was yours, now your mess is mine"

This line took me by surprise and made its home in my chest to think about for a very long time. And it's meaning made itself very clear these past couple weeks. 

If I have learned anything in college, it has been what it means to be loved by a friend and to love as a friend. And that's it, this mess was yours and now it's mine. 

Because it's easy to see who will "love" you when things are good. 

Because it's easy to see who will "love" you when you have something to offer them. 

Because it's easy to see who will "love" you when you have everything figured out.   

But those who love you in the middle of the mess, that is the love of a friend. 

They are the ones who will fight for you. 

They are the ones who will fight with you. 

They are the ones who will pray for you.

They are the ones who will speak truth to you. 

They are the ones who will remind you of good when it is difficult to see. 

They are the ones who will hurt with you.

They are the ones who will mourn with you. 

They are the ones who will rejoice when the mourning is over. 

They are the ones who will help you heal. 

They are the ones who will love you when you feel so unlovable. 

They take on your mess. They don't take it on to fix it or to fix you. They take it on because they care for you and they want the best for you. They take it on because love compels them to. 

Sometimes it's so very difficult to pick up someone else's mess. Because we get burnt out, believing that we do have to fix everything. But that's not our job. It's our job to show up, over and over again. It's our job to choose them, even when we feel like we are out of love. It's our job to love, even when they feel like they don't deserve it. It is our job to make sure they are not alone in their mess.

Sometimes it's so very difficult to let people pick up my mess. I think that I'm only supposed to help carry other people's messes. I think that I am clearly the strongest one and that my problems are only supposed to be carried by me. But that is the voice of this ugly thing called pride. Something that no matter how many times I acknowledge, it never seems to be gone for good. So ever so slowly, I have learned to let my friends claim my mess as theirs. And it is freeing. It is so incredibly freeing to know that you don't have to face anything in your life alone. It is incredibly freeing for people to see the worst mess you have and to choose to love you still. It is my job to lay down my mess. 

I think the best thing about sharing messes is that the good becomes better. Because when you have someone who will weather the storm with you by your side, the sun becomes brighter and feels warmer when it does appear. It will never be too much when you have people who love you through the mess. 

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." John 15:13

We lay down our lives when we share our messes...when we put aside our pride to lay ours down and when we pick up the messes of a friend. 

I am eternally grateful for those who have claimed my mess as theirs. I hope I have the honor and privilege of doing the same for you. I promise that your mess will be mine.