In this journey of healing with J, I’m discovering that there is some deep seated stuff I need to work through, myself. It is rather disturbing to know that one thing casts such a long shadow over my life.
The overarching theme in my life is that I am never enough. Never good enough. Not as a child, not as a teenager, not as a girlfriend, not as a wife, not as a mother, not as a daughter, not as a sister. As a child and teenager, I was never good enough to be part of the “popular” crowd. I was never good enough for the popular boys to date me. I felt like I was never good enough for my parents. My grades weren’t good enough. My behavior wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t smart enough. In my teenage years, I gave myself to boys hoping that I would be good enough for them to love me. I wasn’t. I began to develop a “know-it-all” personality to try to prove to everyone that I was smarter than they were, just so that there would be an area where I was good enough. When my now husband and I were dating, we would break up and he would pursue other girls. I would bend over backwards trying to prove that I was good enough.
When we married, I always felt not good enough, as I am a terrible housekeeper, and he has rarely missed an opportunity to point that out. I also felt inferior, as he had a child with an old high school girlfriend. I would never be the mother of his first child. They shared a wonderful experience that I could never share with him and that made me feel inferior. I often wondered if he still loved her, wanted her, wished he had stayed with her.
Early in our marriage, after our son was born, he began to develop online relationships with other women. And I wondered “Why am I not good enough?” Eventually, I made the mistake of having an affair in an attempt to feel good enough. Even though it was almost 20 years ago, I still regard that as the worst decision I have ever made in my life and have never had, even an inkling, to do that again.
After that, my husband embarked on affair after affair. Each relationship further ingraining in my mind that I am, above all else, not good enough. I am not a good enough housekeeper. I’m not maternal enough. I’m not sexy enough. I’m not nearly fun enough. I’m not fit enough. I’m not pretty enough. I’m not girly enough. I’m not driven enough. I’m not career oriented enough. I’m not ladylike enough. I’m not blonde enough. (Not blonde at all, actually.) I’m not adventurous enough. I could go on and on.
These are the things that I have buried in my heart. These are the things that I have believed of myself. These are the things that play in a constant loop in my head. These are the thoughts and beliefs that I have allowed to define how I perceive myself and I assume how others perceive me, as well.
I am in the process of removing those beliefs. Of forcefully uncurling the death grip that the fingers of self-disgust have upon my heart. Of covering those wounds with the knowledge that Jesus loves me. That He thinks I’m more than enough. That, with Christ, I am more than a conqueror. That I am a daughter of the King, and as such, I am so much more than I have allowed myself to believe.
Nobody MADE me believe these things of myself. For whatever reason, I chose to. And as young childhood grew to adolescence, young adulthood, motherhood, it became my default setting. It is going to be a long and painful road to change my way of thinking. But with God on my side, I can’t lose.
I am more than good enough. In Christ, I’m whole.