For most of my life, “good enough” has been a faraway place. It was a paradise off in the distance, just on other side of the horizon. It held a lot of promise: when I was finally good enough, at last I would I have the relationship I wanted, the friends I wanted, the career I wanted. At last I would be able to feel relaxation and joy and peace. I wouldn’t have to work so hard, to constantly strive and perform, because I would have arrived. I would have earned, at long last, a life full of love.
But good enough was never quite within reach. It never seemed to come any closer, no matter how hard I tried. Sure, there were glimpses of it, moments of confidence and acceptance and the ensuing sense of ease. But it wasn’t long before there was a new goal, a new criticism to address, a reminder that I wasn’t really worth that much.
I was never really good enough, and I never would be. Maybe that seems like effective motivation to work hard and become a better version of myself. In a way, it was. But that effort was disoriented. It was desperate. It gave me a clinging energy, trying to manage everything around me, trying to control how my life looked and what other people thought of me. There was no control to be had, in truth, and so it was a futile scrabbling battle for some illusion of control, which left me exhausted and diminished.
That is the trick of “good enough”: it’s always elusive. If you focus too hard on it, it dissipates. You discover it was never really real. But the moment you turn away, you can feel its presence again, lurking behind you, whispering in your ear, “You need to be better.”
In this post, I want to talk about why “good enough” is a trick, one that you very likely played on yourself, and what you can do to let go of it.
the illusion of good enough
Good enough is an illusion because there is no objective measure of what it actually means. There’s no external referee keeping score of how well you’re doing, and whether you “deserve” to feel certain feelings. It’s all internal, based on your own estimation of what you feel worthy of.
We’re the harshest critics of our own worthiness. This is strategic: in many social environments, it’s safer to be humble than it is to be arrogant. Maybe you grew up in a family environment where overestimating your worthiness meant you were rejected or criticized. As a result, your worthiness meter is permanently set a few points lower. That feels “right”, even if it’s just an invented strategy to maintain your belonging to the group.
That illusory nature is what makes “good enough” so effective for our subconscious purposes. If we don’t actually want to feel joy (because we were taught its not welcome), then using the dangling carrot of “good enough” is perfect. Since it has no objective basis, we can always push it back; we can always say “actually, sorry, not good enough, not yet” to ourselves.
It’s a tool that adapts to our needs. That’s the first step of letting go of this feeling of not good enough: to recognize that it is a shapeshifter. There might be specific circumstances where “good enough” means something concrete (e.g. “good enough” grades to get into a certain school, as defined by an 80% average); in those cases, it’s helpful to get very clear on what we mean. When you catch yourself saying “not good enough”, you can ask: what do I actually mean by that? What would be “enough”?
the origins of “not good enough”
Many of us grew up in a home environment where not all aspects of our personality were welcome. Maybe we were outright told to not be so excitable, or sensitive, or loud. Maybe we sensed our parents’ discomfort when we showed too much enthusiasm, even if they tried to hide it. Either way, our childhood selves got the same message: “this part of me isn’t appreciated.”
But for a kid, it doesn’t stop at “oh, I’m not appreciated.” When you’re young, you’re dependent on your parents or caregivers for everything. In an ancestral environment, if your parents abandon you, you’re dead. Full stop. And the ancient parts of your brain know this.
Pleasing our parents, as a kid, is a life-or-death endeavour. So if we get the message of “my joy isn’t fully welcome”, we’ll immediately work to suppress that joy. We’ll mold ourselves into something more palatable to those around us. Or we’ll go the other direction, and fight and rebel and throw tantrums in a bid for the care and attention we desperately need. Either way, we’re working to express or repress emotion in order to receive love and belonging.
But while “I’ll never express too much joy, so that I keep my family happy” is a tenable survival strategy, there’s a sense of loss there. You still want to experience that joy. So you come up with the perfect solution: “someday”. Someday, you tell yourself, when I’m good enough, then I’ll be able to fully feel that joy. Someday, when it’s safe, when I already have all the love and belonging I desire, then I’ll be able to show up as my full self.
always in the distance
But again, if you grew up in an environment where love and belonging felt scarce or conditional, it’s really hard to feel that you have “enough” to feel safe. It may always feel a bit fragile, as if whatever love you have access to could be revoked at any time.
So the “good enough/someday” construct sticks around. It’s the same as telling yourself “just a bit longer”, over and over. “I just need to get married, then I’ll finally feel happy” or “I just need to get a better job, and then I’ll be able to relax” or “I just need a real group of friends, and then I can finally be myself.” In the meantime, we keep suppressing essential parts of our being.
There’s no reason to feel ashamed of this pattern, either. It’s a really brilliant survival strategy, a way to keep those around you happy and have the promise of the emotional experience you so desire. It’s a beautiful solution to a tricky situation.
But maybe you’re tired of living in this perpetual someday. Maybe you recognize that “good enough” is always relative to something else, is always based on some unanswerable desire, and you want to start feeling that joy now, in the present moment.
letting go of “good enough”
If we want to release this story of “I’m not good enough, but maybe someday I will be”, there are three steps.
First, get clear on what “someday” looks like. What are the feelings that you are denying yourself in the present, because you don’t yet feel good enough? To answer this question, visualize what “good enough” would look like for you, however absurd it may seem! Imagine the mansion, the fame, the riches, the beloved friends, the smoking hot partner… whatever comes up to you. How would all that make you feel? Try to get clear at the sensation level in your body, like “a blanket of warmth around my chest” or “a lightness spreading down from my neck”.
Next, try to create that feeling on its own, and notice what comes up. Do you feel “allowed” to feel that way? Why or why not? We want to get really clear on what the story is. Why aren’t you good enough to feel that yet? What specifically is “wrong” with you now, in the present? What’s the underlying belief there?
Lastly, we want to simply notice when that story shows up in your day-to-day life, becoming aware of how it’s driving your decisions, your anxiety, and your stress. It can be helpful to write down the belief (“I’m not good enough to fully feel joy”) and tape it to your bathroom mirror. Then, look at it everyday, and as you go about your day, notice how it shows up. This practice comes from a modality called coherence therapy, based on the premise that encountering a belief like this on a daily basis primes the brain to try to disprove it.
You won’t feel good enough overnight, but with awareness and intention, you can create more and more access to the joy, peace, and relaxation that you are so craving. And though you might not quite believe it, you do deserve it. You always were worthy. You were always good enough. You just didn’t know it yet.
With love & appreciation,
Scott
Such an important topic and very well written 👏🏽☺️ I will be journaling soon to uncover more of what I need to further overcome. Thank you dear Scott!