Enough is Enough… Isn’t It?

“Are you happy?” My words lingered in the air between us, the darkness of the room creeping into the subconscious of my thoughts. With a gentle sigh his arms tightened around me, pulling me closer, his nose softly grazing my cheek. His voice dripped with exhaustion as he whispered, “So much”. The ache in my heart grew more than I thought one should be able to handle. Though he said the right answer to what I had asked, the bigger question remained unanswered. My lips had asked, ‘are you happy’ but everything in my heart was crying out- ‘am I enough?‘ It was everything I could do to hold back the tears until moments later I headed down the stairs of his apartment and into the cold Colorado night. Stepping into the safety of my own car, I turning the key and the engine came to life as the sound of his voice filled my every sense as the music poured from my stereo speakers. I wrapped my arms around the steering wheel as the sobs begun to erupt from deep within, one question fueling the fire that had become my demise. ‘Am I enough?’

I wish I could say this was the first time I’ve had to ask that question, that this was a rather unusual occurrence in my life. But it wasn’t. In fact, this is a question that has plagued my life for as far back as I could remember. It’s a question that has infiltrated every possible area of my life that I operated in. My relationship with my father. School. My job. And now in the last few years, the thought of what my worth was in what a man could see in me.
As a young girl my family housed foster children for short amount of times until they could be found more permeant homes, and each time their stay with us was coming to an end a certain dread would fill my entire being. I was terrified that my parents would like whatever child was staying with us at the time more than they did me, decide to keep said child, and send me away in their place. Where this fear came from I might never know, but I do know that was the beginning when I started questioning whether or not who I was would ever be enough.

Now, many years later, I am faced with a new relationship and my dear old friend self doubt is rearing his ugly head, louder than ever. As a little girl I didn’t dream of becoming a ballerina, or the first female president I dreamt of one thing- being a wife. I spent my whole life mentally trying to prepare myself to be the ‘ideal woman’ for a man one day, striving to become as low-maintenance as possible, even to the point of being a little too accommodating , making sure my emotional baggage was a light as possible (that one didn’t quite work), and attempting to be as aware of other’s needs and desires before my own. I strived to create perfection. Yet there came time some months ago where I simply gave up, or perhaps I  simply grew tired of the constant holding of my breath. Letting a reassurance settle in my heart that one day a man could actually love me for who I was, that perfection would not be a requirement for him to want me.

Months after this new found confidence took place, he came into my life. I wasn’t looking for anything at the time so when he approached me I was caught off guard in the way that my heart didn’t have time to put up it’s usual walls. I fell for him with my confidence and self worth still in tact. Yet as the weeks go by and the process of getting to know one another continues I find it harder to suppress that twenty-three year old question that rings steadily in my ear- am I enough? For the first couple months I was able to ignore it, he had chosen me so why would I doubt that? But as I sat in my car with makeup filled tears streaming down my face I could no longer drown out the voice in my head. What had changed? Had he done/said something to trigger such a painful question to rise up in my mind? No, in fact over the past few weeks he had done nothing but gotten sweeter, treated me move lovingly, letting me know how special I was to him. This fault laid in my hands, and my hands alone.

So often as women we expect the men in our lives to ‘fix us’. No we would never admit to this in those exact words, we like to think of it as asking our significant other to cater to our insecurities, demanding they fix a part of our heart that someone else (dad, past boyfriend, etc.) broke.
‘One man told me I was ugly, so you have to make me believe I am beautiful’.
‘He cheated on me, therefore you don’t get to look at another woman, not even your sister’.
‘He broke me so badly, you can never say the wrong thing for fear I might freak out’.
We do all this subconsciously, not realizing that it is us alone that holds the power to heal our own hearts. No other human being can be responsible for my heart. Not my father, my teacher, my boss, my boyfriend, not even my husband (speaking future references of course). That’s my job, and my job alone. ‘Am I enough’ is not a question that his wrong doings has created in me, it’s comes from a lifetime of choosing to look at myself through the cracked lenses life gave me rather than rising above the breaks of my heart and saying goddamn it I’m worth something spectacular. Not because a man told me so, but because I know it to be true.

Yes, I could ask him the question ‘am I enough’ day after day, and yet no matter how perfect his response is, it will never fill the void that question leaves in me. It can put a bandage over the wound, but days, minutes, seconds later that voice will remind me of my bleeding heart and his perfect response would be forgotten. No this question can only be answered by the green-eyed girl looking back at me in the mirror. It is my responsibility to silence that voice that rings so loudly. To, if needed, sit in front of my reflection day after day and tell myself “You are beautiful. You are lovable. You are worth it… you are enough”. Because until I can fully believe this, I will never trust anyone else’s word. And when he tells me how cute he thinks I am, I can answer with a ‘thank you’ and not a ‘really??’. I’m not saying coming to that point is easy (I’m still wildly struggling with it myself) but I’m saying it’s worth the fight to become a whole person again. How could I not desire to look in the mirror and love who’s looking back?