In My Eyes, We Are Whole

Not Good Enough.

This idea beats rhythmically on the train in the morning, huddled next to thousands of suits and the smell of different breakfast blends, and I am becoming acutely aware of them-- of the energy of everyone's single thought in the morning: I am not good enough. I will never be enough.

It manifests itself in the jobs we settle on, or the self-defeating words we choose, or the people we surround ourselves with... its colors radiate so dimly I look to the sun to blind me from the furrow in a person's brow, or from the anger in their voice. From the opinions of others. From my opinions and the expectations I set for myself.

We are not good enough.

Why?

Why do we allow a belief to orchestrate the music of our lives? Oh what sweet music it really is, if we chose to listen to the beat of our own rhythm instead of the thudding in our guts. It is no way to live...how defeating the words sound. I can't touch them but my body used to feel the thought beat down, and now, I choose to release it. I must release it because if I don't it will kill me. It will kill what enormous love, generosity and intelligence I have to really, truly provide to humanity. And as far as I have come, it creeps up in such a byzantine, screwed up fashion.

So I decided to change any potential self-defeating "I'm not good enough" thoughts in my head at Souper Salad, on my first break of the day, yesterday.

My hair was tied back in a cute bun, and my skin radiated after three months of intense job searching. No wrinkles. Pressed clothes. Milk and berries in my belly. A book in my hand. Happiness and bliss in Souper Salad.

I locked myself in the bathroom for ten minutes. My bag was set to the floor. Silence between me and the mirror.

I set the goal to look into the mirror for ten minutes, close up, to where my pupils dilated, in and out. I pressed my face close to the mirror...enough to see the fog form.

Minute One and Two:

Wow. My mascara works well with my lashes, but there are some places around my eye lid that I should surely clean up before I go back to work. Oh no, you are thinking about your appearance, Sarah. Focus. I pull back, then move back into place.

Minute Three and Four:

I am laughing. Why is it so funny? You will surely look like a lunatic if someone were to ever see you, Sarah. Oh no, there it is. You said it in the thought...someone might think your crazy for trying to find the love that you know triumphs in your heart = you are saying you are undeserving. You are not good enough to change the way you think. There it is, for this moment in time.

Minute Five:

Did anyone else in Souper Salad see my bliss at being alone with my book? Do I feel alone?

Minute Six:

I am alone, but I don't feel like I am in poor company. I see a beautiful woman in the mirror. Look how far you have come. Working in a place that loves you. Writing and learning all of your passions. Living lightly every morning, each day. Stepping with a skip. Choosing the path of least resistance. Flexible thoughts. Infinite opportunities. I am good enough.

Minute Seven:

Who ever told me I couldn't be enough?

Minute Eight:

I love you, Sarah. Why are you laughing?! Does it hurt that much to say it seriously?! Say it again.

I love you, Sarah. I love you.

Minute Nine:

Starting to feel the words seep into my skin. When have I ever said this aloud? Why does it feel painful in my body?

Minute Ten:

I love everything about me. I forgive myself for anything I have shamed or guilt tripped myself for in the past. I release those thoughts from here on out. I am whole. I am whole I am whole and free.

And as I left, drying up my tears from the unexpected fiasco in the bathroom, I held my bag close to me. My arms wrapped around my waist.

And slowly...ever soo slowly, the digestion finally took place.