When enough isn’t enough
I’ve written this post a dozen times now. I write. I erase. I divulge. I retract. It’s different when you think your subject matter is super worthy of the words that are written on the page. But, when it’s up and down I feel depressing with the lows and unrealistic in the highs. I am real. I want the perfect. I think we all do. But when it’s not I find that I start with complacency with my “real” and wind up angry and bucking perfect. You’ve heard the perfectly imperfect? Exactly. Then we say things like “I am real” and this is “real life”. The truth is it’s all not enough. I own my own home. I drive my own car. I have so many clothes that could literally clothe a small village of people. Yet, it’s not enough. If I had this business venture take off then it would be enough. If I lost that extra five pounds then it would be enough. If we traveled here we’d have enough. If only they acted a certain way it would be enough. If my grays were colored I’d feel enough. If my house were clean it would be enough. If I could get passed the time for Marley’s long recovery from surgery then it will be enough. And on and on.
Except. It’s never enough. Never. Nothing I do will be enough for me to like myself better. I look at my hands and they look so old. I’ve been so hard on them over the years. And as I look down as they’re raw from scrubbing the sink I feel sad and regretful that I didn’t take care of them better. Then I look up to see a man on tv born with no arms or legs and he’s helping to open a new dog training facility in a nearby town. His joy is euphoric and he’s doing it. I am suddenly shamed by my self deprecating loathsome attitude and I think when did it all get to be to much. I look at the glass half full but it’s like I still long for that other half and carry the feeling I’m slightly angry that I didn’t get the other half also. How can I be positive and be so dang unhappy.
It floored me.
It wasn’t just that I realized that I had so much more than so many... it’s that I’ve been fundamentally unhappy that I didn’t have even more than that.
Ouch.
Turns out that I am not who I used to be and I don’t like it. I stopped what I was doing and sobbed. S-O-B-B-E-D. I’ve been waiting for “enough and then I’ll...” for so long. Talk about broken down walls I didn’t know existed. My son comes down from getting ready for bed and he’s talking to me about something and I don’t want him to see that I was crying. He stops at my reply and asks were you crying? And as I was wiping down the countertops still feeling so exposed and shameful, he walks around to me and wraps his arms around me and I felt the hug all the way from God. I love them all so much. My four children. My husband. My parents. My brother. My cousins, nieces and nephews. My friends. And all this time I lost sight of what matters because I’ve been waiting for it to become enough. I think I may have finally felt what it was like to be enough right where we are in God’s Grace and Mercy. My son teared up and I held him there thankful for my raw wrinkled hands feeling the warmth of his nine year old arms wrapped around his downtrodden mama. He didn’t once think about my hands or my grays poking out of my brown hair. He didn’t scoff at the crumbs around us. He loved me just where I was. It was finally- enough.
I’ve called the California office every day for two weeks trying to get a surgery date for Marley. The travel will probably be hard even if it’s just leaving my other three kiddos at home. I’ve gotten frustrated that I can’t plan yet- prep the calendar. I am excited but since we don’t have it yet then her road won’t begin until we have the date. These plans aren’t ready to start until then. It’s just not quite enough. Can I just say enough of enough! Because enough is never enough. After the surgery it will be something else, then something else to make me feel incomplete until it’s finally enough. I guess my point is- none of this will ever be enough. Never. But, if we can cling to the relationships then we are all enough exactly where we are. Marley in her current age and state of hand contracture is enough. Right here, right now. And anything that happens in the future good or not so good still has to finally be enough. My five extra pounds are enough exactly where they are today. I humbly stand grateful for every inch of it. That’s my relationship with myself. And God is enough. He is enough especially when we are weary. That’s my relationship with God.
I am a glass half full. And I know I’ll never get any more than that because I have dozens and dozens of half full glasses around me that remind me that it’s all for that. My love, accepted, positive but real life. I’m not trying to be cliched. I am 100% owning my imperfect perfectly.
I’ve written this post a dozen times now. I write. I erase. I divulge. I retract. It’s different when you think your subject matter is super worthy of the words that are written on the page. But, when it’s up and down I feel depressing with the lows and unrealistic in the highs. I am real. I want the perfect. I think we all do. But when it’s not I find that I start with complacency with my “real” and wind up angry and bucking perfect. You’ve heard the perfectly imperfect? Exactly. Then we say things like “I am real” and this is “real life”. The truth is it’s all not enough. I own my own home. I drive my own car. I have so many clothes that could literally clothe a small village of people. Yet, it’s not enough. If I had this business venture take off then it would be enough. If I lost that extra five pounds then it would be enough. If we traveled here we’d have enough. If only they acted a certain way it would be enough. If my grays were colored I’d feel enough. If my house were clean it would be enough. If I could get passed the time for Marley’s long recovery from surgery then it will be enough. And on and on.
Except. It’s never enough. Never. Nothing I do will be enough for me to like myself better. I look at my hands and they look so old. I’ve been so hard on them over the years. And as I look down as they’re raw from scrubbing the sink I feel sad and regretful that I didn’t take care of them better. Then I look up to see a man on tv born with no arms or legs and he’s helping to open a new dog training facility in a nearby town. His joy is euphoric and he’s doing it. I am suddenly shamed by my self deprecating loathsome attitude and I think when did it all get to be to much. I look at the glass half full but it’s like I still long for that other half and carry the feeling I’m slightly angry that I didn’t get the other half also. How can I be positive and be so dang unhappy.
It floored me.
It wasn’t just that I realized that I had so much more than so many... it’s that I’ve been fundamentally unhappy that I didn’t have even more than that.
Ouch.
Turns out that I am not who I used to be and I don’t like it. I stopped what I was doing and sobbed. S-O-B-B-E-D. I’ve been waiting for “enough and then I’ll...” for so long. Talk about broken down walls I didn’t know existed. My son comes down from getting ready for bed and he’s talking to me about something and I don’t want him to see that I was crying. He stops at my reply and asks were you crying? And as I was wiping down the countertops still feeling so exposed and shameful, he walks around to me and wraps his arms around me and I felt the hug all the way from God. I love them all so much. My four children. My husband. My parents. My brother. My cousins, nieces and nephews. My friends. And all this time I lost sight of what matters because I’ve been waiting for it to become enough. I think I may have finally felt what it was like to be enough right where we are in God’s Grace and Mercy. My son teared up and I held him there thankful for my raw wrinkled hands feeling the warmth of his nine year old arms wrapped around his downtrodden mama. He didn’t once think about my hands or my grays poking out of my brown hair. He didn’t scoff at the crumbs around us. He loved me just where I was. It was finally- enough.
I’ve called the California office every day for two weeks trying to get a surgery date for Marley. The travel will probably be hard even if it’s just leaving my other three kiddos at home. I’ve gotten frustrated that I can’t plan yet- prep the calendar. I am excited but since we don’t have it yet then her road won’t begin until we have the date. These plans aren’t ready to start until then. It’s just not quite enough. Can I just say enough of enough! Because enough is never enough. After the surgery it will be something else, then something else to make me feel incomplete until it’s finally enough. I guess my point is- none of this will ever be enough. Never. But, if we can cling to the relationships then we are all enough exactly where we are. Marley in her current age and state of hand contracture is enough. Right here, right now. And anything that happens in the future good or not so good still has to finally be enough. My five extra pounds are enough exactly where they are today. I humbly stand grateful for every inch of it. That’s my relationship with myself. And God is enough. He is enough especially when we are weary. That’s my relationship with God.
I am a glass half full. And I know I’ll never get any more than that because I have dozens and dozens of half full glasses around me that remind me that it’s all for that. My love, accepted, positive but real life. I’m not trying to be cliched. I am 100% owning my imperfect perfectly.
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