Listen to thisI am not enough. Four words that have the impact of an atomic bomb and words have haunted me my entire life. This may resonate for a myriad of reasons. If it does, I apologize. I am sorry someone, somewhere had enough power in your world to say those words and have them stuck like super glue to your soul. Anyone who has ever experienced the soul-crushing moment of hearing someone who holds a role of importance say you aren’t enough, knows that moment replays itself with glaring accuracy. I was working bus duty at the end of the day at a school. It was always chaotic loading everyone. One of the children I had previously worked with came barreling out of the school swearing and ready to fight anyone who got in his way. When he saw me, I asked what was happening. He stopped and screamed that he didn’t get all his stickers that day (sticker reward charts drive me nuts), that he wasn’t good enough, that he was never good enough and that his dad would be angry. I asked how many stickers he got he said 8/10. I said eight sounds better than zero and it still is a great day. He wasn’t ready to listen and stomped up the steps into the bus.
My Story
When I was in my early twenties, I got into a very oversubscribed program in college. Radio broadcasting was my dream job. The first time I applied I was rejected. The second time, I sent in a YouTube video pleading my case for entry. I was accepted because of my ingenuity (YouTube was brand new at the time). I remember working in one of the production suits on a big project. The head of the program was making rounds through the suits checking on everyone. He came in and asked to hear what I was working on which made the blood drain from my entire body. I told him I didn’t want him to hear it yet. The truth was I was so afraid he would hate it that I couldn’t bring myself to let him potentially offer any tips. A few weeks later, I had to complete a fifteen-minute radio show for part of my grade. My anxiety was through the roof, so I asked him to meet me early in the morning to practice and get some pointers. I wanted to throw up all over the radio board. My hands were shaking, my breathing intensified, and I felt like my head was spinning like a washing machine on a spin cycle. He watched me struggle to get my composure, but once that intro played (California Love by Tupac) I came to life. When I was done, he looked at me and said, “Whomever it was that got into your head and told you that you weren’t good enough, was very wrong”. He went on to tell me that the idea that someone could make me have that little confidence made him so angry. He told me I was enough. I couldn’t hear it or accept it because the other voice was so strong. I knew exactly who that voice was.
When I was growing up. I would bring tests home that, to be fair, weren’t terrific. But it didn’t matter what the grade was. My father would respond the same way each time, “Why didn’t you get perfect”? It didn’t matter to him that I had done the best I could, especially in math. I was terrible at math. But the expectation of perfection created an anxiety in me. I can pinpoint the exact moment my world exploded because of those words. When I was 19, my dad left. He just packed up his underwear (literally, that’s all he took) and left. I got home first that day and there was a message on the answering machine from my dad’s boss asking if he was coming to work because he hadn’t shown up. Mom called the police when she got home, they came over to the house to ask questions and fill out a missing person’s report., The rest of that day was a blur. Fast forward a couple of weeks and we found out that my dad was checking his emails regularly. I emailed him and asked why he left? His response has never left me. He said that I was a disappointment, he wanted more for me, but I would never amount to anything because I wasn’t good enough. This was the moment the bomb he had planted inside of my brain all those years earlier, detonated. The small voice telling me everything would be okay was silenced.
The Long Bus Ride to Nowhere
Why does any of this matter? When children are told they aren’t good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, or creative enough, it chips away at their self-confidence. Imagine those words coming from someone you are meant to trust. Imagine the confusion that causes if a child’s caregiver thinks they are worthless or stupid. The rationale will be that they must be because this person wouldn’t lie. That professor could have told me anything he wanted to, and I couldn’t believe it to be true. I graduated with honours from Radio Broadcasting and secured a job before I even graduated to host my afternoon drive show in Thompson Manitoba. I packed up my life and jumped on a Greyhound bus thirty-seven hours to Manitoba. Three hours from Thompson, my thoughts of inadequacy got the better of me. I jumped off the bus at a diner and hitchhiked back to Winnipeg with a truck driver. I flew home on the last seat available on the flight. Dad was smug about it and reminded me often of this decision and it just cemented his words indelibly in my brain. I wasn’t enough. I was a screw-up.
The Healing Begins
Late last year, I decided I had enough of feeling broken. I gave my dad more than enough time and space in my brain reminding me about how disappointing I was. The depression that goes along with feelings of uselessness can be so intense, and the thoughts can be dark and very isolating. I couldn’t focus on my classes, and the more assignments I received back with incredible grades, the deeper into this hole I felt. I cracked emotionally after a particularly triggering class about family dynamics and how we bottle up our traumas to avoid dealing with them. I emailed a professor in my program for help, and she directed me to a psychotherapist whom I’ve now seen every other week since that day. It has been a battle to undo all the pain and hurt. I worked hard to see the grades I was receiving but couldn’t ever have a moment of being proud of myself. It would take days to get to a place where I felt a bit of pride. And then it would be gone again. I created an accomplishment wall to remind myself daily of what I was capable of and I couldn’t dispute the facts. It was hard at first, but the more time I spent looking at them, the better I felt about myself and the quieter that annoying voice got. I still have those moments when I don’t think I’m good enough and it gets the better of me often. Imagine what this feels like for a little one without access to someone who can help.
You are Enough
One day I caught up to that boy at my school who had been paranoid about his father being disappointed in his eight stickers. He came up for a hug and I said I had something for him. I pulled out a pin that said, “You are Enough”. He looked puzzled and I said this is to remind you that eight stickers or ten stickers or no stickers at all, it doesn’t change how incredible you are. We all could use that reminder sometimes, and if I can use something as simple as a pin to remind him that someone out there knows he is enough, I feel like I’ve done my job. As I continue to grow and learn as a novice CYC, I hope to stay aware of the opportunities to intercede and remind these children that not only are they enough, but they are enough exactly how they are. Find those moments when you can speak powerfully into their worlds. Don’t let a single child think they aren’t worth it. Every one of them is. You are loved, you are ENOUGH, and you matter.
