All of my life, all the signs have pointed to my not being good enough. I’m too shy, too nervous, too anxious, too isolated, too bookish, too lazy, too dumb, too naïve, too religious, too everything.
Please don’t think I’m complaining. I get it. I have made my peace with it. I’m happy. I’m handling. I’m okay. I’m content. But something has happened. It’s challenging my world view, the whole way I see myself. I don’t think I can handle it.
I really just don’t. I keep wondering why me? Why would someone want anything to do with me? There is good. I’m not without virtue. But that’s never mattered before. It’s never been enough. So why me?
I invested so much in the future. I lied to myself about improving and someday, when everything was better I would deserve a life. I would deserve other people. And I have changed, improved, gotten better. You know I never thought I was a perfectionist, but I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough to pass muster. I’ll never think I deserve a life or real happiness. I’m not perfect yet. I’m just not good enough.
So now I have a chance, a chance at love and happiness. I have a chance, and I don’t know how to give myself permission to take it. I’m afraid of it. It’s better than anything I would have bothered to pursue. I don’t deserve it.
It can’t be real.
I wasn’t ever traumatized. I wasn’t abused. I had a normal life. So where along the way did I get all this baggage?