# 10 Blog: June 9, Not Good Enough

What progress, you ask, have I made?

I have begun to be a friend to myself.

Seneca, philosopher

Sorry if this is overkill, but I'm a newbie trying to do what the professionals say needs to be done as it relates to social media and making people aware of a new memoir I wrote called Where Did I Go? Still with the effects of PCS (Post-concussion syndrome), I am bound to mess a few things up. Be kind, and see what is in my heart. I want this memoir and website to help people going through a rough time. Please find some comfort somewhere on my site and/or book.

YOU are not alone! YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH!

As an educational consultant, I worked on provincial and national projects and was actively involved in teaching youth, adult literacy, and curriculum development. In hearing about their mental and emotional pain, I became an advocate for those without a voice, who lost their voice, and those too scared to speak. Little did the people I worked with know I felt so poorly about myself. We are so good at masking how we really feel, but it takes the good out of us, drains and pulls us down. The only way out is to change the interior dialogue and push the critical voice out.

With a valid reason or purpose to help others, I could, and do find a voice, but I struggle when I feel intimidated, ridiculed, rejected, and quite frankly NOT GOOD ENOUGH ...

Those are KILLER words. And it is worse when we keep telling ourselves what the inner critic wants us to hear. I learned over time, those voices affect our behaviour and our belief systems and can hold us back, just as fear does. We all need to feel comfortable and safe to engage; when we do not, we remain awkward and silent, have opinions, points, and ideas in our head but refuse to share for fear of being ridiculed. Some people do like to make others feel like wee mice and can be harsh in their judgement even mean.

As a teacher, professional writer, and columnist, I write with the intention of connecting with people and easing their pain because I felt it to the depths of my core. Most of it comes from that horrid day on a beach, and the dysfunction in which I was raised. Read my blog on my brother for more details.

I experienced the depths of despair in my teenage years, did not know how to deal with the terrible storms and cold fronts that kept finding their way through our doors and windows. Death's face hovered, weighed us down, and placed fear in our hearts.

There was no one I could turn to, and so I walked the rural roads desperately searching for answers, someone to hold me tight and tell me everything would be okay. I just needed a comforting hug, a parent to tell me they loved me, that I had worth beyond what I could do; I just wanted to be accepted as me, warts, blemishes, and all, but I never felt like I was.

God, I needed hugs. I was emotionally starved, as too many of us are, even to this day. And that's when, when we are hurting, that we slip into risky behaviour. My faith was strong, and I did not want to end up like the people in the environment around me; that kept me on task away from temptation, but I turned on myself before others had the chance by verbally putting myself down before others could.

Through prayers and more prayers, I fought to rise above the challenges. And yet, they piled on top of me, threatening to bury me alive. My strong faith and messages of love that came through readings, nourished and helped me rise above inadequacy and fear.

And now as an adult, I am reshaping my life into a mosaic of resilience even after my last invisible injury took away my job, my passion, and broke me for a time. But in January 2025, my nurse practitioner ordered new meds, and I followed my naturopath's regime, and it made a huge difference. Medicine can have detrimental effects on us, and sometimes we are not aware until someone else shares, or we gain the courage to say what was prescribed is not working, and we need something else.

After a few weeks I was feeling different, had more energy, and felt more like myself than I had in years. The renewed strength helped me deal with spinoffs and leftovers from my fall. And I started thinking ... maybe, maybe, maybe ... I could ...

I started thinking maybe I could teach or reach out to others through my writing. The desire burned and I took old manuscripts from bureau drawers written decades ago. Could I? Could I help, even as I paced my activities, created a needed, quiet environment?

My lifelong purpose is to make a meaningful difference in the lives of others. Maybe I can do it through my sincere words, so they do not feel the hanging sense of being alone, the sting of rejection or abandonment, the slicing cut of not being good enough.

I want to share lessons learned and pay it forward for any, and everyone who struggles. Maybe I am a Pollyanna, or I see through rose-colored glasses, but if I am, so be it ... as long as I can help.

Be well and take care. Find the good in your life, help reshape ugliness and pain, and stop blaming yourself.

You are not alone! Others have walked your path and made it through, not only survived but thrived. It's okay to feel, so-called not good enough, but if you do feel that way, do something about it until you do. That's where I am right now ...

Enjoy! Take a break and start being good to yourself! You/We only have one life; we might as well make it as good as we can.

And so I must train my brain to believe ... I am Good Enough! Have a tremendous week and work on reshaping your thoughts. Francene

Help me help others.