What To Do When You’ Aren’t Good Enough’

Growing up with immigrant parents( and being a refugee/ immigrant myself ), my entire life has revolved around following instruction. And so on and so forth.

There were always moments where I ensure myself shine( in the arts, dancing, even just joking in every day conversation with friends) and I realized that I couldnt fully permit myself to feel proud of that because it was so’ mundane .’ It was borderline obscene to want to be viewed in such a lighthearted manner. It was borderline obscene to induce myself smile. It was borderline obscene to only.

A wise woman once said that the style mothers talked to their children became their inner voice. You know that nagging voice inside your head telling you one route or the other? Thats your mama say to you that you cant feeling butterflies around him because hes not successful in life. Or your dad screaming at you because you didnt know the oil change was over a couple hundred miles. A fucking petroleum change. Man.

These glorious moments in our lives genuinely do shape us in the end. Its the fight that you pick with him because perhaps he isnt successful enough even though youre 22 and who at this phase in their lives? Its that negativity about how youre so stupid and such an idiot that you shower yourself with when you hop your first curb. Even though some moron ran you off the road and you nearly ended up wrapped around a pole trying to dodging him. Because you werent good enough. Because you arent clairvoyant.

Because youre you and everything you do/ think is wrong. Right? Wrong( but only this once ).

I know you sit there calling in your head, wondering why the hell you were a first-generation scholar. Why theres so much pressure on one simple soul. Why they just dont TRUST you. Because you cant teach an old puppy new tricks.

My parents and I were recently having a discussion( AKA I was getting my ass handed to me, such is life) because my 16 -year-old sister wanted to find a part-time job since she was about to have some extra free time on her hands. They didnt like the idea of her working at all because shes the golden infant. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that I was the gentile in the family in case you havent realized by my ever-so-elegant profanity gushes. I started working at 16. It wasnt a piece of cake, but I learned actual real-life skills and made some amazing memories closing up shop with my backwards cap and soaked Shoes for Crews Converse at the nearby Chick-Fil-A.

But they refused to listen to me. They were basically saying that they didnt want my little sister working since they are didnt want her to end up like me. Side note: I enjoy a stiff drinking every now and again and I have tattoos yikes. Im also about to alumnu from an accredited university and have a solid undertaking lined up once I do yikes? No, that part they like. But do they ever mention that part? Nah. It doesnt fit the storyline.

What I want you to realize is why you dont have to fit the storyline theirs, his, or hers.

You can have your cake and eat it too. You can have tattoos and also have a Masters degree. You can have a glass of wine and also pray to whichever God you believe in. You are good enough. Because the only person you HAVE to be good enough for, in your heart of hearts, is you.

So what do you do when you arent good enough? You get that tattoo. You ace that quiz. You down that bottle of wine. And you inhale. Every day above ground is a good day and you, my friend, are having a fabulous one.

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