Not good enough…
This is a phrase that I wish I could erase from my brain. No one, that I recall, has ever told me that I was “not good enough”. So why does my brain jump to that conclusion, sometimes over the silliest things? I realize that I can be my harshest critic. And I have NO idea where it comes from.
For example, today, Jax came home with a bag of Valentine’s goodies from his classmates. Cute, handwritten and decorated cards, little candies, a full sized coloring book, little goodie bags, you name it, its in there. I mean, Twizzlers and lollipops??? People give their 2 year olds Twizzlers and lollipops??? All I sent him in with today was a batch of teeny tiny little paper cards that had his name and his friends name on them. He wasn’t even wearing red, except for his socks, because they were the closest pair to me when he asked for them. It was like Clifford threw up on the toddler room. I felt like I didn’t do a good enough job. Really? Because the kids aren’t going to notice. And if the Mom’s did those things to show off, well, they have bigger issues than I do.
But the self-talk in my head goes like this:
I didn’t have any time this week to clean in the evenings. Not good enough.
Didn’t get that problem at work resolved quickly. Not good enough.
Didn’t get to the gym more than once this week. Not good enough.
Didn’t eat healthy for dinner last night. Not good enough.
Can’t keep up with…well…anything. Not good enough.
Really? No wonder why I’m stressed out and tired and feel like I’m not in control. I’m my own worst enemy. How about I think about what I have accomplished, instead:
Yesterday I woke up at 5:25, showered, packed Jax’s lunch, made and fed Jax breakfast, filled my car with gas, got Jax to daycare, made it into work after an hour commute for an 8:30 a.m. meeting, had 7 other meetings, drove an hour home, picked Jax up from daycare, fed him dinner while changing for the gym (yes, in my kitchen), bundled Jax up and took him with me to the gym, got to the gym in time for my 6:15 class, worked out for an hour, and I don’t mean I just walked on a treadmill either, retrieved Jax from the playroom, got him home and in bed by 8:00. Made my dinner, ate my dinner, wrote out 13 little Valentines for his class, loaded the dishwasher, thought about making cupcakes, washed all of Jax’s dishes, made Jax’s lunch for today, wrote a letter, and was probably asleep by 11 or so.
Going down the list, all very trivial, silly every day things, but adding them up, that’s not so bad for a regular day, right? I mean I’m not winning any awards for my super awesome contributions to society, but it’s not like I sat on my ass eating bon-bons and watching tv all day either.
So my Valentine’s day present to myself is to love ME more. I don’t need to do something memorable or meaningful every day. I don’t need to be perfect, or praised, or know that people are talking about me saying, “wow, how does she DO all that, she’s awesome!?” My gift to myself is to promise to be content with knowing that I’m doing the very best that I can, and my heart is in the right place. And that’s more than good enough for me.