It’s been a little over a year now from when I first started to strip down and get real honest with you about the way I see the world and the way the world has unraveled itself; sometimes painstakingly slow and sometimes too fast, too much, too all at once. There are times I feel like I’ve said too much and there are times I feel like I haven’t said enough. I return here to this place again and again: am I doing enough? Is this too much? Am I too much? Am I enough? What does enough feel like? Will I even recognize it if I get there?
When I write, I lose myself in this little world that’s all my own. Writing to myself is how I get honest. I forget about you. I forget that you—the people that I adore, the people that I respect, the people that I want to show up for—actually read what I write here from time to time. Every time I remember that, fear starts to push its way in and I return here again and again: Am I doing enough? Is this too much? Am I too much? Wait, I can do better. I can be better.
I’m stuck here this time. I’m stuck in this race toward enough. Am I enough daughter? Am I enough sister? Enough friend, enough employee, enough writer, enough positive force in the world? The answer is probably yes. The answer feels a lot like no. And one voice inevitably drowns out the other. I’ve been circling around these feelings for months now getting curious and close, and getting afraid and backing away. So far, the backing up and away has been where I feel most safe. But in this safety, there has been a superficiality that’s been hard to ignore. Superficiality is the quickest way I know to feel suffocated, smothered and stuck. Superficiality is where I find myself lately. Superficial, suffocating and stuck.
I’ve been hiding from hard things. There are names to these things. Names like eating disorders, anxiety, depression, divorce, stress, fading friendships, drawn-out goodbyes, miscarriages, inadequacies, and fears that I’m not ready to tell you about yet. Some of these things I’m carrying, some of these things you are carrying. These are things that I don’t want to talk about and these are things you don’t want to talk about. But I have this hope that if I tell you what I’m carrying, you’ll tell me what you’re carrying, and maybe we can carry some of these things together.
I want to start here and now because nothing good has ever come from hiding what’s hard and heavy, and I want you to know that being honest is always enough. Stepping out beyond superficial and safe is how we get unstuck and unstuck is where I want to be these days, no matter the cost. Let’s get honest and open about these hard things we’re all carrying. Let’s have uncomfortable conversations and put words to these things. We’ll carry them together. I’ll do my part to share the things that I don’t want to share; this is your always-open invitation to step into the conversation and share about the things that you don’t want to share–with your friends, with your family, with your significant other, your therapist, whoever it is that you trust–please don’t hide. Please don’t let the not enough voice drown out the always worthy voice that’s desperate to be heard.