Yep, you read that headline right, though it might not mean exactly what you think.
And I’ll warn you in advance: this post is something of a manifesto. Stay with me, because it gets good.
Let me explain.
Lately, I’ve been suffering a lot– and I mean A LOT– with the sense that what I do, have, and earn is never enough. Maybe this is familiar to you. Maybe you’ve been there too.
The mantras in my head have gone like this:
I never make enough money. I never have enough time. I am never as far ahead of the game as other people in my field. I am never, never good enough at what I do for my own incredibly high, self-inflicted standards of performance (hello, Type-A). I am never enough for my family, in part because I am never there, because I am always working too hard, because I am never working hard enough to get to where I want to go. I am never enough for my friends, because I never see them, because I am never enough at work. My entire life is never enough. Never, never, never enough.
In other words, I– yes, me, I am saying this out loud– have been telling myself that I– yes, me, the person who should know better– am never enough.
I have been telling myself, on a relentless non-stop feed, that I am never enough.
It’s not pretty, but it’s the truth.
Maybe this is familiar to you, too.
I began to think about this issue in detail a few weeks ago, and to do some work to try to shift it, but I wasn’t having much luck. Somewhere, I had a vague sense that it had something to do with my interactions on social media, but I wasn’t sure exactly how.
What I did know, though, was that social media wasn’t helping. Every day on social media, I saw entrepreneurs, coaches and pretty much everyone in the self-improvement field pretending– you read that right, too– that they had it all figured out. Secretly, over time, I’d come to hate many of them, or roll my eyes at their posts, or worry about the impact they were having on their readers.
And yet, despite the fact that I knew that their lives were carefully curated online and their reporting of their experiences was extremely limited in the context of what was REALLY going on for many of them (trust me, I know some gory details), I nonetheless allowed myself to become ragingly green with envy over what I saw of their lives through this lens.