Good Enough

In the first 40 years of my life I cannot remember a time that I felt "good enough."  Good enough to be loved unconditionally, good enough to play sports, good enough to have friends, good enough for, well, most anything. This self-doubt had seeped into my brain and set up camp. It must've happened before my first actual memories; before confidence could be constructed. You know that shameless, self confidence that you see in children? I never had that. I have always been overly aware of myself.

The little family jokes about my shortcomings still ring in my head: you can't throw a baseball, you run funny, you are lucky to have any friends who will put up with your fat ass. I'm sure in the moment, these comments seemed harmless, but with repetition they became truth. I have been surprised when I have had successes in my life, almost as if it were an anomaly. I felt that I was only worth what I could provide for someone else.I still struggle with this. I question whether or not my motives for good deeds are pure or just a way of validating my worth. Maybe a touch of both.

When my kids were younger, my husband Andy and I loved to play baseball with them.  We turned our yard into a poor excuse for a baseball diamond; complete with a lopsided pitcher's mound. One evening as we were playing ball, Caleb who was 9 or 10 asked me, with childlike innocence, why I threw funny. I immediately put up my guard but caught myself before I became defensive. I told him that that is just how I throw the ball. I also shared with him that I never had anyone show me how to throw correctly, but rather I was just made fun of.

The next day Caleb asked me if I wanted to go outside and play catch.  I was busy with something so unimportant that I cannot even recall it now.  I made an excuse of why I couldn't make the time to play with him. He persisted and I started to get short with his refusal to take no for an answer. He said, "I want to show you how to throw so no one never makes fun of you again."

 The compassion that came from my own child was more than I had ever been shown.  He probably does not even remember that day or that he made such an impact on me. But, through his innocence I saw someone who loved me and didn't want the world to hurt me.Maturity is finally catching up with me and I have become kinder to myself. I see life through more loving eyes and a softer filter. I am trying to be more forgiving of my faults and to change the ones that actually matter. I am becoming good enough.