This month, we discussed what it meant to be “enough,” for ourselves, for others, for our own lives and dreams. How do we deal with that nagging feeling of not feeling like you’re good enough? That you’re incapable or never will be good enough for what you have in mind for life?
As we wrap up our month, we hear from all of our Bitches about their journey this month.
Noa Gavin – The Fearless Bitch
One of the hardest things for me to accept is a compliment. As a reflex, I immediately decline them. I say, “Oh, no, I’m not any good,” or “That show was not that great,” or “no, no, my hair looks so bad today!” It’s become such a habit that I don’t even realize I’m doing it anymore.
When I was going through a really hard time earlier this month, I went to practice with in improv group whose members intimidated me with their talent. My best friend was among the group, but I didn’t know anyone else in the group well beyond watching them kick asses on stage. When the time came for me to jump in and perform–I was horrible. I froze up. I left after many tense and awful scenes, terrified and humiliated.
I later found out that my best friend came to my defense and told them I was nervous, and so did their coach, an improvisor I respect very much. It didn’t help. I wanted the earth to swallow me up and never perform again.
Then later that week, I ran in to the coach from that troupe. He complimented me on my work there, even while very nervous. I started to balk and say that I was horrible, and he cut me off.
“Are you serious? Are you going to say that you were horrible and tell me that I’m wrong about my assessment of your performance? Dick move.” That shook me up–I had never considered that by shunning compliments I was simultaneously insulting people.
What is more conceited: saying thank you to a compliment, or telling the other person they’re stupid and shutting them down?
That shit is Fucking Asshole behavior. I am a lot of things, but that’s not one of them.
Abby Heugel – The Funny Bitch
My thing is that I’ve never felt not “enough” for other people. Of course there was a time when I felt like I didn’t measure up physically, and obviously I still feel that way as I HATE the way I look–skinny and sick, like my body take the brunt of my mind (but that’s a completely different topic.)
But when I got older I eventually said, “Fuck it” and realized that unless I did what made me happy and what I wanted to do–not what other people thought was “enough” or what I should do–I would be miserable. I didn’t see trying to make other people happy all the time at the expense of my own happiness as worth my time and energy. I decided that whatever made me happy was enough (within reason, of course.)
Unfortunately, having OCD and an addictive personality often means that whatever I do never feels like enough, while often feeling like too damn much. I compare myself to myself-what I did before, what I looked like before, how much of something I did before. And when you’re already depressed or struggling with OCD, addiction, etc. not reaching that “more” point digs your hole down deeper because honestly, it will never be enough.
I could ramble on and on, but I’ll just say that this whole month made me look at things through a different lens, given the theme. While my post was light and humorous, I also wrote a more serious one that I kept to myself that I’ll probably put up next week (I wrote it dammit, so it’s not going to go to waste. I’m better with trying to be funny than making myself vulnerable.) Then I realized I could write 200 posts about “Enough” if I allowed myself to write without worrying how it came off.
Now I am rambling like hell, but here’s my last example, and yes, I’m relating it to writing because I can.
I’m part of another humor anthology with a bunch of female bloggers who are very savvy when it comes to self-promotion. They spend a lot of time and energy on graphics and social networks getting all of their stuff out there, sharing things from everyone else, etc. It’s basically their job, and they do their jobs well. It was suggested to me that I get on Pinterest because it was great for building traffic to my blog (side note: I love my little blog, but I’m basically a blogging peon and have never made a dime of the actual blog. I’m not even self-hosted.)
Anyway, I finally caved and joined Pinterest because, well, I should. Even though I got some good tips, I was completely overwhelmed after a day. I’m not graphics savvy and my posts weren’t “pinnable” as they were, and it was suggested on how I could incorporate certain “pinnable” graphic box things with my blog url into my posts. I spent a stupid amount of time trying to figure this out and started to add in a few to older posts.
Then I stopped.
I didn’t like how it looked. I like the clean look of my writing, and plopping a thing in the middle just to get “pinned” didn’t feel that right to me (plus, I’m not real great at that yet so the graphics looked like a kindergartener made them) Anyway, I realized I was changing my style and stressing about things at the expense of my time and my sanity. There’s a fine line between working hard–something I’m MORE than willing to do–and changing things just to fit in. I would LOVE to have more pinnable posts or have a more professional presence, but it isn’t my job. It’s my hobby (sigh.) And trying to be something I’m not simply looks forced.
So, for now what I do is enough. I might not have the best looking blog, a million readers, pinnable posts or legions of fans, but I write because I like it. I write for the real connections. I write to escape the stress of life, not to create more. This applies to everything. If I’m doing what I want to do-and of course, what I need to-I’m doing enough.
No one can do it for me, and it’s up to me to balance the “you should be doing so much more!” with, “maybe right now that’s enough.” Whether it’s work, exercise, writing or anything, sometimes it’s simply enough.
Jen Reinmuth – The Fierce Bitch
My journey toward being “enough” started at a very early age. Being the younger sister to someone who emerged from the womb willowy, blonde, and gorgeous I had a tough row to hoe.
SPOILER ALERT: I was none of those things
What I was was competitive, so I developed an “anything you can do, I can do better” mentality which, to be honest, made me a bit of an asshole. But it also offered me great success in life. And yet…yet…it was never enough for me. I have a very addictive and perfectionist personality and to this day, the inability to complete the Sunday New York Times crossword (in PEN, motherfuckers) or not finding the EXACT shade of red shoes to match an outfit has me glowering internally. But I’ve learned to cut myself a modicum of slack over the years, especially since I became a mom as there is no greater indication of your failures in life than having your child inform you they haven’t brushed their teeth since Easter or allowing your toddler to wear a tutu and a Burger King crown for three weeks.
So, I’ve lightened up a little…well, more than a little. I abandoned my issues with food as bulimia is SO ’87 (10 points of street cred for whomever caught that movie reference), and I put aside the alcohol that had long anesthetized me to my depression over my self-perceived shortcomings. I finally felt like I was enough…almost.
There is still one piece of my life where I feel lacking, and I’m struggling to work through that. You see, I have only ever known love; real, true love, once in my life. I met him 5 years after my divorce and for one year it was like I had the wind knocked out of me and I never knew it was possible to be so ridiculously happy every second of every day. Of course, time and tide, and custody issues arose and he was forced to move across the country, taking my heart with him. When Dylan left, I truly didn’t ever think I could feel that way about anyone again, so I hardened my heart and made solace with being alone. Don’t misunderstand me, I wasn’t LONELY, but I was alone, and I was OK with that. I recently began dating again for the first time since Dylan left and I met a man I had an instantaneous connection with. For the first time in two years I felt those gentle stirrings in my heart; not love, it was way too soon for love, but companionship and genuine affection. I felt things were going well, but it was too soon for him. He was too newly out of a relationship and his heart was simply not available.
I was saddened to have him slip away, but with each heartache and rejection, I feel myself grow stronger. Because the truth of the matter is, I don’t need a man to complete me, because I already am complete. I am enough. I don’t need people surrounding me, because my own company is perfect for me. I am enough. And I know that even though I am rejected, dumped, “let’s see other people-d”, or Steven Haushka-ed into the Friend Zone, it has nothing to do with me. I may not be every man’s cup of tea but someday I will be one lucky guy’s shot of Jack and I will rock his damned world.
And THAT, is enough for me.