Are we ever good enough?

A recent hot topic that has been ruffling some serious amount of feathers in our circle. It’s such a disturbing thought that we require a higher order to pat us on our back, flying-saucer her palm on our head and tell us we’re alright.

Are we ever good enough? Even when we reach our KPIs or when we fail to reach 12 months of that in 1. Is it an intrinsic flaw of ours? Are we only snide and witty when we’re bitching?

And there comes the challenge of public speaking. But seriously, how many of us are toastmasters, debates, or even, quarrelsome? Peace-loving creatures we are who also have a penchant for resigning to fate. Unglamorously, extremely LL. Euphemistically, tenacious.

So, as we head into the new year in fortitude yet dampened spirits, coupled with a sense of foreboding tragedy, is it OK to stop asking ourselves that question? Can we ever settle for contingencies? Can we live with ourselves to disappoint others?

And ultimately, and most dauntingly, are we cut for it, at all? Are we making futile attempts to mold ourselves into a form that is too big for us to get a good shape? Or are we spread to thin that we’re going to snap?

Well, my life has never been smooth sailing. And I’ve resigned to that. Cheating my very own sobriety, telling myself challenges are only for those who are strong enough to overcome them. When that fades away, just like how those painkillers wear off after 3 hours, can we bear with this pulsating pain that so often reminds us that we’re trying to fill size 10s with bound feet.

Does resigning to fate make us less complacent? How do we balance angst and guilt? Why can we play one down yet suffer helplessly in the other?

Too many questions, no time for answers, and I guess I have to head for the bed now.