Never Enough

There was a time in my life when I used to spend a great deal of time dreaming about having enough money to buy anything I wanted ... a gigantic house, a red Ferrari, a fancy boat and all kinds of other frivolous and unnecessary items. As much as I hate to admit it, a large part of why I used to dream so much about being richer than dirt was because I thought being rich would make me happy, or at the very least, a heck of a lot happier than I was. I thought if I just had enough money, all of my problems would somehow magically disappear or that I could find a way to buy my way out of them. In typing those words, I can't help but recall the mantra of one of my college professors ... "Money may not buy happiness, but it sure can rent it for a hell of a long time." He was a really great professor, but he was wrong about money being able to rent happiness ... if I haven't learned anything during the most recent years of my life, I've learned that happiness isn't for sale or rent. It's a treasure for sure, but not one you can buy, rent, bargain for, swap, procure or obtain by any other monetary or financial method known to mankind.

My dad used to always say, "The more you have, the more you want," usually when I was whining or complaining about him refusing to buy me something I "needed" because all my friends had it. And he usually followed up that statement with a kind and gentle lecture about the folly of trying to measure my own personal worth by what I or other people had or didn't have. But Daddy being Daddy, there was always a deeper truth ... a much deeper truth that he wanted to teach me. He pretty much always went straight from telling me that having lots of money or lots of things wouldn't make me happy to explaining to me about the danger of getting sucked into feeling that I never had enough ... and even more important, the gut-wrenching hurt that would surely ensue if I fell into the pit of feeling that I could never be enough. I've thought a great deal over the years about the lessons my dad taught me in my younger years, and I've come to believe that God gave Daddy an extra large dose of wisdom when it came to the most important parts of life ... parts like love and respect and honor and courage and integrity and compassion and honesty ... you know ... those for sure,  beyond the shadow of any doubt, really and truly most important parts of life. Little did Daddy know ... or perhaps he did know and that was the point ... that some of those lessons would come to mean more to me as an adult than they ever did when I was a kid.

In the spirit of being open, honest, real and transparent, I have a confession to make. I've been struggling for the last week or so with the wily old "never enough" monster. Actually, a more accurate appellation for the beast that pounces on me more often than I'm willing to admit would be the "never (fill in the blank with the most applicable adjective that describes how I'm feeling at a particular point in time) enough" monster. I know there are many of you who also wrestle with this sneaky, creep up on you just when you least expect it to beast because you write and tell me about your own battles with it. Sometimes I think that's the most frightening part of the creature, you know ... that everything can be going great and I can be feeling pretty good about myself, and then whammo ... out of nowhere, the esteem-crushing creature is right there screaming into my mind that I will never be enough no matter how hard I try.

You know what's crazy, friends ... what's totally and absolutely crazy? It's way too easy not only to listen to the monster, but to believe what it's saying ... that I'll never be good enough or smart enough or pretty enough or cool enough or sophisticated enough or a gazillion or so other never enoughs. The never enough creature doesn't stop there, though ... oh, no ... once it's managed to propel me down the path of those never enoughs, then it really steps things up and goes straight for my heart. The beast gets me right where it wants me and that's when it tells me I'll never be a loving enough mom ... a playful enough Ghee ... a giving enough sister or aunt or cousin ... a loyal enough friend ... a hard-working enough employee ... a kind or compassionate or listening or trustworthy enough human being. BUT ... BUT ... BUT ... if I keep trying ... if I keep breathing ... if I keep living ... if I continue to surround myself with people who truly love and appreciate and believe in me, then the never enough monster eventually has no choice but to admit defeat and move on.

My dad was right, you know ... he was so very, very right. I shouldn't ever listen to the soul-snatching, mind-mistreating, heart-hacking never enough monster. Perhaps instead, I should take a cue from my sweet granddaughter whenever the creature rears its ugly head and say, "No thank you ... I have plenty." Perhaps I should ... perhaps you should ... perhaps we all should ... perhaps we should indeed.