How true.
This statement, viewed on a church sign this past weekend stuck with me more than my personal favorite “God accepts knee-mail”.  Probably because I worry needlessly more than anyone I know. I’m a self-admitted worry wort and being a female raised in American culture, I’m also insecure.If I don’t have a million things to do or be interested in, I feel like a failure. I actually start to ponder my right to happiness. Recently I’ve felt like I’ve been in a rut. Grad school is a totally different ball game from undergrad. I find myself floundering with free time, I don’t have assignments due every day, or even every week and I’m not sure how to handle that. I’m still running my women’s studies group but I’ve found a comfort zone and I’m itching for a challenge.

I feel a little stagnant. I guess I get this way periodically. I feel like I should be doing something interesting, something exciting, something more important than what I’m currently working on. I always want to be a better version of myself. There are so many of my friends and non-friends who I admire for different things, so many people who I envy for one reason or another. Which is not to say that I’m unhappy with myself. I’m not, for the most part. I mean when we get down to the big picture I remember that my life is pretty spectacular. I have such a great family, a wonderful group of friends, I’m in perfect health, albeit out of shape and overweight (gah!), I have a home and a bank account that’s not in the red. Not to mention a boyfriend who amazes me every day. I’m so lucky. I think though, I’m one of those people who always has to be working on something, who always has to be doing something new, something interesting. I need to be active mentally or physically in a new project in order to be happy with myself. I need to be productive.
My friend Sarah told me last night I inspire her because I’m always getting involved in different things, I told her she does the same for me. Really, I don’t think I do enough.
That word. Enough.
It seems like women are always trying to find that comfortable place where they are “enough”. We think we’re too this, too that, we need to work on this, or improve on that.
I think, in a way, it’s a good thing to be so introspective and to challenge myself to be a better person, but if I can never reach “enough” how can I be happy?
I feel like I need reassurance that I’m ok.
I want to be reassured that I’m a good person.
That I’m attractive.
That I’m a good friend.
That I’m intelligent.
That I’m an above average individual.
That I’m worth everything in my life.
Because really, that’s what it’s about. This ideal “enough” is about feeling like you’re complete, like you have a purpose in life and that you’ve met that purpose. These “emotionies,” as I like to call them, are just an attempt to identify oneself.
Oh emotionies. How I loathe you.
Now, not only am I insecure, but I’m insecure about being insecure.
As I have all these thoughts about my own self worth, I can’t help but think that the people who I admire do not waste their time worrying about how they rate on the big scale of life. Why do I care what other people think of me? Well, simply because I believe there is a certain truth to the idea that you are who you appear to be. I know how I want to be viewed, I just have yet to figure out how to keep tabs on other people’s impressions of me. Besides, you know, asking them.

I’m sure I’m not alone in this constant search for self-assurance and identity, twenty-somethings are always attempting to figure out who they are and where they stand. I just wish it wasn’t so mentally exhausting. Sometimes I just have to tell my brain “enough,” I am enough.