Enough

 I've been pondering the word "enough" for a while now.

There's the question "enough?" which means: am I enough? do I have enough? is there enough to go around?" and resides in fear that the answers are no, no, NO.

There's the yelp "enough!" which means: for the love of all that is holy it must STOP! and resides in frustration and more fear that it will never end.

And then there is the declaration: "Enough." It means that I'm done grasping for answers, that equilibrium has been reached, that I am sated. It means that I'm not hungry, it means that I have what I need, it means that I can be still.

Enough.

It seems to me that most of my life has been lived in "enough?" which is a question asked of people who weren't capable of telling me the truth. It means looking outside myself for answers, going to people to beg permission to exist; going to the world with a beggar's cup in hand to plead for survival.

After a few decades of that I screamed "ENOUGH!" at the top of my lungs: at my marriage, at my parents, at the world. It was filled with rage rooted in fear that the world wasn't safe, that only through the power of my force could I possibly stop disaster and keep myself alive and afloat, not asunder and askew. It was rooted in the exhaustion of "enough?" but not removed from it. It was about adding fire to the dark, and the light was helpful, and I lived.

But I still lived with "enough?" and the fear that I'd have to keep shouting just to keep the whole thing going.

And I think, maybe, yes, for sure, that it's time for enough.

What if I know that I am enough? That I can do what I need to do, what I want to do? What if I am not good or bad, perfect or hideous, right or wrong, but I am simply enough? What if there is space for me to be imperfect yet lovely, sometimes wrong but still good, making mistakes but still making progress?

What if the world has space in it for me, and my life is filled with enough? Enough love, enough friendship, enough security, enough joy? What if I am a good enough teacher, my body is good enough, my home good enough, my life... enough?

And what if, in the material world, I already have enough? What if this gnawing feeling that I've carried for so long that I am close to the edge and I'd better grasp what I can before it all slips away... what if that feeling isn't true? What if my life has stability and even abundance?

***

I've been seeing my life through new eyes recently.

In before times, finances were such a struggle just to stay afloat. Not even going into childhood or my marriage (not for public consumption here), when I got divorced all I could do was hold on. It took a series of miracles to keep my home - interest rates that dropped at just the right time, promotions or new jobs that came exactly when I most needed them. I laid in bed at night running through the numbers, the backup plans, certain from all of the years of being told so that I did not have what it took to survive this, and that any minute the sky would fall.

I look up. It's gray and raining outside today, but the fact that rain is falling means that there is, actually, a sky. It's still up there, doing the work it was made for, life giving water falling on my emerald green part of the world. I was wrong for sure. I'm here, and the sky has not fallen.

And it seems to me, actually, that in my own life, the sky has been doing exactly what skies are supposed to do. Months of rain lead to sunshine. Snowy hikes in the mountains in one season, paddle boarding on the sea the season opposite, and rain in between, with occasional glimpses of blue just to remind me that it still exists. Beautiful cold nights where the stars startle with the reminder that they've been there all along. A moon that waxes and wanes, shines bright and disappears, slivers and globes and light and darkness, playing peekaboo with the clouds but - just like the baby behind the blanket - there all along.

In my life, this looks like surprise bills (the fence needs mending! the dishwasher broke! the car costs HOW MUCH to repair?!) scattered amongst blue sky moments like a concert with friends or a trip on an airplane to do something exciting; days when the commute and the long hours and the rain bring me down balanced by days when I'm walking in Lincoln Park and a porpoise peeks out of the sea or I have a day to light candles and read all day as the rain falls (I can vacuum later and it turns out that this will not make my house fall down).

It means that when I go to get dressed, I have stacks of warm sweaters to choose from in winter, and a row of bright sundresses to choose from in summer. It means a selection of coats of just the right thickness for whatever the sky brings. It means sharp knives in the drawer, a basket overflowing with teas to choose from, a liquor cabinet made for entertaining different palates. It means tools of all shapes and sizes in the garage, the kitchen, the craft cupboard. It means stacks of books in all the right places. It means a fridge overflowing with food, a printer full of ink with backup in supply, dozens of mugs to choose from when I make my coffee. It means that I write this at the desk I try to reserve for writing because I don't like bringing other energy into the space, on the treadmill that means that I can get the creative juices flowing at the same time I try to care for my body, and it means that I don't have to go outside for a run when it's cold or wet or hot or smoky. It means a little jungle of houseplants, and throw blankets at the foot of every sofa and bed and cozy chair. It means a daughter living in her apartment in college, partway through her junior year, and a little stack of gifts to show her that she's seen and loved and special for when she comes home to celebrate her birthday.

The list goes on for miles. The things I need are all there. I don't have to be hot, or cold. There's enough to share - a spare coat, plenty of food, a guest room. When a letter needs sending, or a gift needs wrapping, or the yard needs tending, it's all there. When there is a fancy party, there are outfits to choose from; when there's a picnic, there is a choice of baskets.

A choice of baskets? Yes. The contemporary sleek canvas one with the metal handle; the old fashioned one with the built in dishes and wine glasses; the Little Red Riding Hood ones. There was a backpack one too that I gave away. There were plastic picnic dishes I gave away, too, preferring my enamelware metal ones. And all the paper plates for just in case - I gave those away too. The baskets are representative of something else - too much. Not enough is not the problem. I own two red coats; four colors of puffy coats. Multiple wool dress coats. Just to be clear, most of these were bargain prices, or gifts, or thrifted. I haven't totally lost my mind and started buying whatever I want, but I've been good at the local Buy Nothing and Tessa and I like thrifting and I watch the online sales and friends give handmedowns and the one coat I regretted not buying in the store was available for only $20 on Poshmark and....

And if you haven't become exhausted from all that already, then you have good endurance, but let me save us all here.

Not enough has tipped into something else.

Enough. I have enough. I do not need to worry about running out of underwear (painful memories of the ones I wore as a child cutting into my legs because they were too small, and my mother's voice saying "but nobody can see them anyway" when I complained about the stretched out elastic and holes, missing the point entirely). No more embarrassment when a friend invites me to an event and I truly don't have the right things to wear. 

I still remember going to a charity event with a ticket gifted by my lovely, generous friend Sandra. I showed up at her house in my new Marshall's simple black dress and out of style shoes, and she took apparent delight in putting the rest of my outfit together, declaring "I know just the bracelet" and such, loaning me from her supply... and I looked at her jewelry, pretty costume pieces that were just right, and in abundance... and I felt my own lack, despite the generous loan. The press showed up at our event, and our picture together was published in a local magazine, the three of us looking playful and fabulous, and I realize now that nobody could see how small I felt, how unsure of myself; nobody realized that my costume jewelry was borrowed and the ticket was gifted and I couldn't afford to raise my paddle. They only saw a smiling woman in a black dress with her friends, wearing just the right jewelry.

Even when I was barely scraping by, there was enough. There was a friend to help, a free ticket, a fun night.

And now I could loan a friend what she needed from my own ample supply. Silver? Gold? Classic? Playful? Witchy? Delicate? Chunky? Tell me what you like, I'm sure I have something... I could take the whole town out for a picnic. I could wear a different coat each day of the week.

And I am done. It's enough.

Recognizing that Amazon isn't great for our planet or our local businesses, I decided to go cold turkey on January 1st. Mostly, I bought household stuff: office supplies, cleaning supplies, big boxes of tissues. But I also bought random kitchen things, or inexpensive sweaters, or party supplies (I have a set of twelve plaid cloth napkins that I purchased for my plaid party; was that really necessary?!).

It feels good to remove the app, to stop scrolling for things I "need." It's moving into other parts of my life, too.

I tried on four outfits before we went to The Nutcracker this year, and I hated the first three. This one too tight, this one the sleeves aren't quite long enough, this one what was I thinking? This time, instead of putting them back in the closet for another occasion, I put them in the donation bin. This made me look at my closet - bursting at the seams - and wondering what else was there. This sweater is cheap acrylic, this one not the right color for my skin tone, this one in the style a friend wears and looks great in but really isn't great for me. These pants are too tight, these ones unflattering. Gone, gone, gone!

And the spices: expired - gone. Faded herbs - gone. And the condiment shelf in the fridge, same.

I have a lot of work to pare things down. The house is tidy and organized, but this is a trick because the house has lots of storage and carefully stored things I don't use are still clutter. I have a lot of work to do on all those closets, the attic, the garage, the laundry room.

But what is interesting (oh finally I get to my point!) is that the best part of this process isn't going to a closet and seeing only clothes I enjoy that actually fit me; the best part isn't saving money (even a $20 Poshmark coat is $20); the best part isn't lowering my ecological footprint by stopping bringing things into my house.

The best part is how it's seeping into my real self.

I'm safe. I have enough. I don't need to worry about others judging me as I felt they did when I was a child who never fit in and never had the right things (getting yelled at in PE because my shoes were too slippery and not safe, and telling my parents, and they shrugged it off and ignored the request whether because of money or inclination or both, and returning to school each day to hear the same humiliating lecture, afraid of running as I knew I'd fall again); I don't have to worry that Tessa's feet will grow too fast and I'll have to find a new corner to cut so that she will get new shoes when she needs them. I have things to share, and I needn't rely on charity.

(But I love my hand me down house. The living room and family room sofas, dressers, side tables, dining room chairs... this house is filled with gifts from friends, their castoffs which I like perfectly well. Craigslist and Buy Nothing and Value Village filled in most of the rest, and what they couldn't provide I proudly purchased at IKEA, choosing painted white wood that feels fresh and clean and functional and natural if not stylishly luxurious.)

Instead of feeling the not-enoughness of my hand me downs, I feel the love of the friends who shared them, and the universe which made sure I had enough. The universe even flooded my basement with sewage - so gross! - which means that half my house was completely redone, fresh and clean, even a bit stylish. What I thought would end my time in my home actually improved it.

So what if this went beyond stuff? Beyond feeling comfortable and confident in my clothes, beyond having the right supplies when I reach for them in the cupboard? What if this seeped into my soul?

I have enough.

I am safe.

I do not need to spend my energy "getting and spending" (and there are plenty of people on the planet who do - it is the utmost luxury to not have to spend one's life trying to get by).

It's time to switch gears.

Instead of spending energy just trying to hold on - a sofa to sit on, a jacket to stay warm, a book to read, food to eat - I'm trying to remind myself that just as I have enough, I am enough.

I have enough in my life.

Enough friendship. Enough love. Enough safety. Enough hope. Enough creativity. Enough peace.

I don't need to look for new things to remind me that I'm enough.

I don't need to fret about my friendships, or worry that some new person doesn't like me.

I don't need to wait for some magical moment that it all comes together because...

Because this is the magical moment.

I'm clearing clutter so that I can figure out all of it.

I'm trying to lead my creative life, getting rid of the messages that say I'm not good enough or smart enough and the odds are against me so there is no point in trying. The new book is right - I feel it in my bones. It's meant to be written, and it's meant to be read.

I can let go some of my pain of worrying about Tessa. She is nearly 21, and she is becoming the woman she is meant to be. She has ups and downs, but I see her strengths, and she's extraordinary. She doesn't need my anxiety or worry on top of her own, and so I'm setting that down. She is enough. Our relationship is enough. It's unfolding just as it should.

I can stop trying to hold on so tight to what I fought for. I fought so hard to keep this house that I can't imagine living anywhere else... but maybe I can. I fought so hard to regain my teaching career that I can't imagine anything else... but maybe I can. I fought so hard to find my peace that I've been afraid to change anything that might disturb it... but maybe I can.

Maybe I can. Because I have enough. This is enough.

If I am not good or bad, but enough, then I can write my book without worrying about perfection or the voices that shout at me to "mend their life". I can just do what I am called to do.

I can let go of my career if other opportunities arise. It is not my only path to peace and safety. It is here for me when I need it. But it's enough to worry about whether my writing will ever amount to anything; I don't need to worry that it WILL be successful, because I can handle that, too.

I fought so hard to fill up my closet with clothes that symbolized safety and security, but I can let many of them go, too... and maybe I can even open my heart to sharing some of that space with someone one day. Or maybe I can find a new closet one day, a his-and-hers, and move my clothes to a new bar that is abundant and safe even though it's new.

It's time to let go. If I unclench my fist, I can see what it is that I've been holding onto so tightly; I can let it see sunshine and rain so it can grow and flourish instead of hiding in the dark of my fingers and palm.

Enough? Yes.

Enough! It's time to move on.

Enough. I am.

I'm letting go of what doesn't fit, of spices that have lost their zing, of books I actually don't want to read no matter what the reviews say.

I am holding on to what serves me, to what feels right and true, to enough. 

I trust that I will know the difference, when to let go and when to hold on, like the old serenity prayer. I trust that I have all the tools I need, and I don't need to be perfect, and I will find my way despite imperfections or sometimes because of them.

Enough.