Good Enough

I am amazed at how long it takes to heal from Divorce. That capitalization was accidental, but I think I'll go ahead and leave it. It suits.

I'll think I'm All Better Now, and then one day I'm Not. I'm in the shower wondering where my life went and getting weepy over something said four years ago that has now become ironic. Like how, at the height of The Big Fight with G's mother, I shot back at her, in all confidence "G LOVES me!" Only, maybe he didn't, I just didn't know it yet.

Not being loved is the worst. It makes me wonder how long I went unloved and didn't realize it. Maybe there's something fundamentally unlovable about me.

Lately I'm plagued with this idea that I was just Not Good Enough. I'm not a very girly girl. I'm no good at fashion or decorating or making bows. I despise scrapbooking, can't bear Sex in the City, and have no particular fascination with shoes. I can't arrange throw pillows, either. And I'm not much of a cook. But I guess all that is what was important to G... all the stuff I'm not, and not any of the stuff I am. When we split up, he couldn't think of a single thing he admired about me.

This is only partly self pity. Partly, behind and below the self pity, and maybe bubbling beneath, about to burst through, is this rage. Really? Not good enough? It makes me want to bite through steel bars. Because of course I am good enough. I'm more than good enough. I'm funny and irreverent. I can cuss like a sailor and quote shakespeare in the same breath. I love animals and I'm not afraid of snakes. I pay for my own drinks. I laugh at myself if I fall down, and I fall down fairly regularly. I can be showered, coifed, made up and dressed in under 20 minutes. Ican grow a plot of vegetables and make my own pesto. I vastly prefer action films to chick-flicks. And throw pillows are an annoyance. I'm not a woman like all the other women. But I'm good enough. More than good enough.