Not Good Enough

From whence does this feeling of not being enough come? On whose wings does it ride?

They never intended to communicate that I wasn't good enough.

But it was there embedded in the hell, fire, and brimstone flannel-graph stories. I wasn't good enough for God. The Divine was sending me to the Lakes O'Fire upon my death, unless somehow, I got the prayer right and Jesus hopped into my evil heart. I don't remember how many times I heard this message before the age of five.

They never intended to communicate that I wasn't good enough.

I suspect the brainwashing had already begun long before I could say any words. They were proud that before the ripe old age of two, I could recite my first Bible verse from memory. There was a camp and a canoe on a lake in the Midwest where you could go if you recited the whole book of ABC verses. "A" for "All we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned each and everyone our own way."

But, they never intended to communicate that I wasn't good enough. 

And then there was a sport that caught my heart at the ripe old age of 12--only one of the most difficult of sports. Far too late a start to get to the upper echelons. So I took it up. In spite of my athleticism and decent level of talent I quickly determined that I was not Olympic bound, in spite of this being some sort of instigating factor to drive me into the sport. All the same, my secret hopes and dreams they paraded before the house guests as entertainment, "She wants to go to the Olympics," they'd chuckle whilst compelling me to round off back handspring in the yard. My words of pleading to not divulge my secret dreams could never quite reach them. "We're so proud of you," they'd argue. And so began the schooling in how my "no" wasn't good enough to stop adults in all their infinite parenting wisdom if the purpose of boundary obliteration could be somehow construed as "well meaning."

But, they never intended to communicate that I wasn't good enough.

And then the day came when I thought I might find some sort of community amongst spiritual people in a church, of sorts. Knowing my recovery from fundee world, I chose a place that I didn't find too Jesus-ee. I may have even mentioned to them that I was stepping toward the Divine again, finding a connection to a church. But of course, the place chosen wasn't exactly the right sort of good enough for them. It wasn't Jesus-ee enough for their narrow fundamentalist world view. Something was wrong with the doctrine--too much ritual--too dead as they judged it--too much deviation from the horrific, flannel-graph stories that deadened my soul. And so when they'd visit, they decided that they couldn't contaminate themselves with attendance to my sort of Spiritual Gathering. My father would instead comb google, looking for multiple services at varying locations to try, rather than accompany his less-than-daughter to her spiritual community which clearly wasn't enough to feed his giant soul.

But, they never intended to communicate that I wasn't good enough.

And then there was a day when divorcing a narcissist stepped onto my to-do list. My ex was fucking one of his 21-year-old college students. And so my father in all his wisdom decided to try to "fix matters" by getting on a plane to counsel and advise about matters of the heart--matters of my heart. My ex had the gall to introduce the oh-so-fuckable-red-lipsticked-well-oiled-foreign student to my father. My opinion of the appropriateness of the situation, of my dad coming to advise about my relationship, and my insight into what was falling down around me didn't matter. I was after all female and emotional and not logical in my arguments defending my position as to why I should divorce. All the same, I sat my dad down independently, tried my best to explained as rationally as I could what was happening, and why I thought it wise to get out--how it was abusive and confusing and taking its toll on me. But my own words weren't rational, or logical enough for my own decision, in my own relationship, "to justify" leaving a cheating, emotionally abusing spouse. I was sinning--divorcing--clearly not trying hard enough. 

And so while they never intended to communicate that I wasn't good enough, the message somehow came through brilliantly clear.  Now I struggle to walk the line between connection to them, while working to delete this brainwashing from my head. I have the gall to wonder why when I finally meet the guy that I'd like to get to know--why I somehow feel not good enough.    

Three Babies

Sometimes I ask myself precisely how many times I can let go of the same thing over and over? Precisely, how many times can I pare down to less? I keep thinking I've given up almost everything. Indeed, letting go feels likes my perpetual lesson.

I let go of house and home.
I let go of those things I thought, necessary.
I let go of the parts of myself that I thought were core bits, but ultimately, not true.
I let go of material things.
I let go of friends and companions.
I let go of family.

And there is always more I realize I'm attached to.

There is always more to let go of.

And then there are some things you really shouldn't let go of, I tell myself. 

And so I don't. I won't.

Like my three babies.

Each of these my three babies I will carry with me.
For myself I ask no one else to be mother to these three.
And of course I'm like a wild horse
But there's no other way to be.
Water and feed are not things that I need
For the thing that I've chosen to be.
In my soul
My blood and bones
I have wrapped your cold bodies around me.
The face on you
The smell on you
will always be with me.

And this is the manipulating point my Narc knows.

He knows my love for them means I will not ever abandon them to him.

Each of these my three babies.

I let go of all else, but.

Beauty from Wounded Space, One Day

Sometimes, oh-so-unrealistically, I think that I could handle the narcissist and all his shit, if it weren't for the havoc he disseminates like some sort of metastasizing cancer to my entire world. Especially, now, I need support. I need friends. And there he is dropping poison into the waters of my friendships. He means to destroy me. Punish me. Teach me, a lesson. And of course, there is always abuse by proxy. Getting my own friends to pressure me to do whatever-the-hell-it-is-that-he-wants-me to do--for whatever ridiculous purpose he might dream up--so that he can ultimately, control me.

Lately, the dark pessimist in me measures time in terms of which friends, I lost at which point in time. As in, oh August--that's when I realized the estrangement betwixt Michelle and I. Oh, September. That's when he got to my friend, Jenn.  

Somehow, right now, I don't seem to have the energy to counter the narcissistic propaganda they all seem to choke down like cough syrup.

I know I'll bounce back, eventually--just now I need time to devote energy elsewhere.

Nonetheless, it is a shame. I could use the support of my friends now, especially. But, I know eventually, the true ones will come back around. The truth will come out. And it is important for me to let go of my feelings of betrayal by them. They don't know better. They are manipulated--the exact same place I was for 20 years or so. How can I expect them to see through stuff any sooner? I certainly, didn't.

And so, I do my best, to let go. Forgive. Not take it, personally. They don't get it, really. 

Instead, I cling to hope in the words of John O'Donohue about said friends. I cling to the idea of beauty emerging from the wounded space, one day.

For Lost Friends

As twilight makes a rainbow robe
From the concealed colors of day
In order for time to stay alive
Within the dark weight of night,
May we lose no one we love
From the shelter of our hearts.

When we love another heart
And allow it to love us,
We journey deep below time
Into that eternal weave
Where nothing unravels.

May we have the grace to see
Despite the hurt of rupture,
The searing of anger,
And the empty disappointment,
That whoever we have loved,
Such love can never quench.

Though a door may have closed,
Closed between us,
May we be able to view
Our lost friends with eyes
Wise with calming grace;
Forgive them the damage
We were left to inherit;

Free ourselves from the chains
Of forlorn resentment;
Bring warmth again to
Where the heart has frozen
In order that beyond the walls
Of our cherished hurt
And chosen distance
We may be able to
Celebrate the gifts they brought,
Learn and grow from the pain,
And prosper into difference,
Wishing them the peace
Where spirit can summon
Beauty from wounded space.

-John O'Donohue