One of the things I still feel most of the time is that I’m not (whatever) enough. I’m not pretty enough.I’m not bi enough. I’m not happy enough. I’m not depressed enough. I’m just not enough.
Now that the word “enough” has lost all meaning, I’ll simply say that being me is insufficient.
Not Pretty Enough
I’m not pretty. Period. I don’t even need to put an “enough” there. You want to know what’s messed up? I feel bad that I’m not pretty enough to be catcalled, even though (1) that’s sexist and wrong and (2) the few times I have been catcalled I felt very scared and unsafe. But the fact that people, typically men, don’t find me pretty enough to harass makes me feel bad about myself, and then I feel worse for feeling like that and I begin to hate myself for both not being pretty and for succumbing to the misogynistic culture of our society. I started that Selfies for Self Esteem Daily Challenge 65 days ago, and while it is generally helping me like the way that I look better, that still doesn’t mean that I’m pretty. And physical appearance is how most people initially judge others. How am I supposed to find a partner if I’m not pretty enough to attract one in the first place? I know I shouldn’t want to be pretty for other people, and I do want to be pretty just for me, but it still makes me sad that I’m not pretty enough.
Not Bi Enough
I am biromantic asexual which for the intents and purposes of this essay, will be equivalent to bisexual. That in and of itself is part of what I mean when I say I’m not bi enough – since I’m not bisexual, I’m biromantic, it doesn’t count. Even though I’m still attracted to at least two genders. I feel like I’m not bi enough because I’ve only dated two people, and both of them have been cis dudes. Since I haven’t dated a woman, I must not be bi. Furthermore, I am more attracted to men than women, even though I’m still attracted to both, and there are times when I’m only attracted to men and others when I’m only attracted to women. And since there’s so much discourse surrounding bi people that involves “the right way to be bi”and I’m on the wrong side of it, I just feel like I’ll never be bi enough.
Not Happy Enough
This one’s pretty straightforward. I am depressed, therefore I am not happy. Even though I am taking medications and doing therapy and I’m feeling a whole lot better, I’m still not happy. I don’t know how everyone else in the world feels – my ex once told me that happiness is a myth, and everyone is sad just trying to find the joy in life, but it turned out he was depressed too, so there’s that. I get the feeling though, that most people without depression have ups and downs, bad days and good days, but are generally content or happy, with periods of sadness. I, on the other hand, have those same ups, downs, bad and good days, but I’m a generally sad with periods of happiness. (I would like a couple of people to tell me if this is basically true?) How am I supposed to function in a society that is basically happy if I’m basically sad? I’m not happy enough.
Not Depressed Enough
This one seems contradictory to the last one, but it is just as true. It’s the idea that because I’m feeling better now, I must not have been depressed in the first place. Or, in other words, I can’t prove I’m depressed so I must not be depressed enough. Furthermore, even when I was showing extreme symptoms of depression, I still never attempted suicide, or self-harmed for the most part, so I couldn’t be really depressed now could I? If all I felt was overwhelming sadness, there are so many people who had it so much worse and hurt so much worse than I did, than I do, that my depression didn’t count. I wasn’t depressed enough.
Being Me is Not Enough
Enough for what? I don’t know. But I feel invalid and unfulfilled. Unimportant and irrelevant. I am simply not enough for whatever it is that I’m not enough for. It’s an empty feeling inside, and it’s not sadness. It’s just emptiness. It’s what’s in my head when I dissociate. It surrounds me at all times and is like a refrain in the back of my mind, even when it doesn’t actively bother me. It’s still there. I am not enough.