Sometimes I feel I’m not handsome enough; or that I am not intelligent enough. Other times, I don’t think I’m ‘manly’ or masculine enough; I question whether I am capable of summoning the aplomb needed to move and act in this fallen world resolutely. I don’t feel worthy of the friendships I’ve forged; I always seem to not give enough. I’m too selfish and, thus, not selfless enough. “You’re not outgoing enough,” I think to myself sometimes. “I’m too afraid”, another voice in my head whispers; paralytically risk-averse. There isn’t one dimension of life—over which I might be said to have some control—that I do not feel myself unable to address.
But then I think: “Who am I comparing myself to?” Or, to what? To whom can we defer, recognizing that they are beautiful enough, or strong enough, or intelligent enough? Who, among us, can lay claim to being talented enough, selfless enough or loving enough? In a world like ours—predicated on competition, consumption, acquisition and power—who can really say that who they are, flaws and all, is enough? I think it’s time we said enough with the diffidence and self-doubt—those elusive illusions that engender self-hate and self-derogation. Who we are—good and bad—is more than enough.