Some kids want to be superheroes, while others want to be professional athletes. Some want to be movie stars, while others want to be trapeze artists. But for me… I just wanted to be good enough.
I knew that I wasn’t good enough when my father admitted that he always wanted a son (I was a girl), or questioned why I got a B in math instead of an A, or berated me just because, or boycotted my graduations and wedding.
I knew I wasn’t good enough when my longtime first love went off to college and left me behind, or that he forgot Valentine’s Day (which was also our anniversary), or that his roommate had to inform that my sweetie was sleeping around.
I know I am not good enough when my mother only inquires about my spouse and family but never about me, or when she changes the subject when I try to reminisce about the past, or when she constantly confuses my tastes with my siblings’ preferences.
I know that I am not good enough when I have applied to hundreds of jobs but only interviewed for dozens. And that no matter how many interviews I have, I am never hired, even though I have an abundance of experience and education.
And I know that I am not good enough when my spouse wonders why dinner is not ready yet, or inquires why I did not have time to weed the garden or scrub the floor, or when my kids roll their eyes when I talk to them.
When, oh when will I be good enough?