I will never be Good Enough

I'm not doing well, the past few weeks have been yet another dark period in my life. So much happening... most of which I can't bring myself to discuss even in an anonymous setting like this.. it's not YOU~ it’s me, and the fact that I can't seem to admit the nasty truths to myself. I'm falling apart, I know it. I feel myself slipping. I am aware of the panic building deep inside of me. I know what the trigger is, but I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to “fix” it.. and IT SUCKS! Everything feels like it’s upside down, I cry one minute and I laugh the next. Sometimes it starts as a laugh and ends as a cry. And I wonder how much strength and will power I really possess, taking a moral inventory, trying to figure out who the hell I am.
It's just not a good time; I suppose I should just leave it at that. I have good ideas, but not enough heart to stick it out. Or maybe I’m just not good enough, period? That's how I feel... not good enough... not smart enough,or pretty enough, or thin enough,or rich enough,or successful enough,I’m not good enough. Not Good Enough. That’s why I named this blog, “Good Enough”. I long to be good enough, and yet that dream has not been realized, and I wonder if it ever will be.

Lately, I feel nothing...except emptiness, and hollow... and I can't for the life of me figure out what's wrong. How did I get this way? What led to this? What's wrong with me? Why can't I make sense of it all. I think I'm broken. I feel a heaviness in my heart- something is trying to happen far away within a part of me I don't remember how to find. I feel lost and I'm just wandering around within my mind, waiting. Wishing for someone to tell me what to do and how –but there’s no one to help me – I cannot allow myself to trust, to lean on anyone. Been there, done that, it only ends in more pain, more shame and hurt. I am on my own with this. So I write about it, because that's what I know how to do…and the writing pacifies me and teases me out of my own thoughts.I have so much hurt and anger and it’s bubbling to the surface.

Everything around me, and the very fact that I have to go on in the midst of it, whispers to me of my own failure and horribleness as a human being. I know all that I tell myself is not true, but this is not the kind of thing I can just tell myself to stop and be happy.

I see myself as a child. I see a little girl sitting in a dark corner, hugging her knees and trying to be as small and "out of the way" as possible. When she looks at me, her eyes are full of a terrible anger- rage, really- and pain. She is scared. I have never seen myself so dark. But she is undeniably me, and she must have existed during that time of my life. I have ignored her, I choose to ignore her, because she did not fit the image I held for myself. She makes me think about everything that happened to me. So much anger, so much hurt. She was rejected, hated, abused; never good enough. She was insulted, ridiculed, hated, ignored, and abused. The pain from the aftermath is unspeakable. I try to list the things my mother and step-father said to me- did to me- not to relive the memories but to acknowledge the suffering I never could when I was actually going through it. I try to describe the pain and it's so overwhelming that no words will come. I don't know what to say to her-this child of my past. I don't know how to help her exist, how to let myself be angry and hurt, how to bring to life all of the things that I've repressed. I want to express it all, but I don't know where to begin. And I look for something anything, a book, a person, a therapist; anything to show me the way. I suppose there is no way, no road map, nothing but fumbling in the dark, at least that’s been my experience. I try to ignore her, but every night when I close my eyes and I see her, but I cannot sit with her or tell her I am here for her. I am unable to tell her that her pain is real and that she has every right to be angry . I cannot help her or stop her anger or pain. I don’t know how. No one has ever shown me how. And she wants, needs, something, and I don't know what to do, or how to help her. I am so tired of walking this road alone. I am tired of the pain and anger, but they are mine- a part of me.

And I don’t know where to go from here. Or if there is anywhere to go from here.

I will never be good enough.