Why we never feel good enough

Juan Pablo Serrano Arenas

 

 “Why do I always question whether I’m good enough for a man before I even consider if I actually like him? Even when he makes me feel insecure and anxious, I still feel emotionally drained when he doesn’t get attached to me.” 

 

This is a common trap we can all fall into: 

wanting to be impressive, attractive, interesting, accepted. 

We can even find ourselves trying to win the approval of people we wouldn’t actually want if we got them! 

Why do we look for people’s approval in this way? 

I believe it’s in huge part a result of us not having made peace with ourselves. 

We haven’t accepted ourselves as worthy of love, so we go looking for someone to make us feel we are worthy, or perhaps even more deeply, to prove what we suspect is true already: that we are not.

To take a brief-but-related tangent, I’ll share with you a story:

 

Kate grew up in a highly conservative household, and then proceeded to “rebel” (as she put it) in her 20s by having two one-night stands. Years later, she would find herself in a relationship, where, upon speaking about their dating histories, she shared this information. She described her boyfriend’s initial reaction as one of shock . . . he told her it felt so out of character with what he knew about her.

His response provoked a tidal wave of shame inside her. 

It was like her parents’ judgment came back to haunt her all over again. 

Interestingly, he was able to get over this detail about her past pretty quickly—not that there was anything to get over in the first place—by exploring where his reaction came from and seeing his overreaction. But it didn’t matter. His reaction awakened something in her she couldn’t seem to shake. She found herself wishing she could erase the past, even asking herself: 

“Am I a horrible person?”

The truth is, the voice of her parents had been internalized a long time ago as a voice of shame she used to berate herself. Her boyfriend’s initial reaction wasn’t the problem . . . it was that it validated a fear she already had about herself: that it was unacceptable for her to step outside the lines, and that her having done so made her unlovable. 

 

Because she hadn’t fully acknowledged and accepted herself in all her wonderful complexity, she was looking for this acceptance and approval outside of herself. 

She still needed to learn that those one-night stands didn’t make her bad. 

They were simply the result of a part of her that was trying to get a need met—maybe independence, freedom, full expression, spontaneity, or sexuality. 

These are wonderful things, by the way! 

And those parts of her still exist today, even if she meets them in ways that suit her better in this chapter of her life. Those parts of her don’t deserve shame, but love. And acceptance. 

 

This is the kind of love and acceptance I do not believe Agatha (who asked the original question above) is giving herself, which is why she is seeking the approval of everyone else. 

When there are major parts of ourselves we haven’t accepted, we go out into the world looking for someone who will tell us we’re OK—that we are a good person, desirable, and worthy.

 

We need to accept the good, the bad, and the sometimes-ugly parts of us. 

We also have to accept that our best still won’t be good enough for a lot of people, just as my best basketball skills will never be good enough for the NBA. And that’s OK. 

But our best has to be enough for us, because it’s unreasonable to expect any more of ourselves. 

 

Acceptance is: 

“I’m in control of doing my best, and anyone my best isn’t good enough for isn’t for me. 

That’s all I need to know.”

 

If you operate from that place, you’re at peace. 

You’re no longer comparing yourself to someone who’s better-looking, younger, more charismatic. 

You also realize that the person who’s meant to be with you will be happy with your best—not the fake best you may try to construct to impress them in the beginning, as you contort yourself into what you think they want—but your actual, everyday best. 

This brings about a kind of peace, and a kind of presence. 

We start wanting the best for ourselves. 

It is from this place that we can simply ask ourselves: 

“Who accepts me and treats me the way I deserve to be treated—the way I accept and treat myself?”

This is true discernment, which self-acceptance makes possible. 

Because she hadn’t accepted herself, she wasn’t able to be discerning. 

Her priority wasn’t finding someone who was good for her, but someone who made her feel she was “good enough,” which invariably gives everyone, including the bad types, too much power over her.

Remember, you only need to be good enough for you, which is something only you can measure, because only you know what you’ve had to deal with to get here, what has made you who you are . . . and when it comes to finding a partner, your job is to find someone who appreciates that.

Key Takeaways

• We can’t truly be ourselves in a relationship until we’ve made peace with who we are—with the facets of our personality that comprise the whole.

• When we haven’t made peace with all of us, we start to look for external validation instead of giving it to ourselves. This gives people too much power, and stops us from being discerning about whether we are making good choices.

• Your best has to be enough for you. And anyone your best isn’t enough for isn’t for you. When it comes to finding a partner, your job is to find someone who appreciates who you are, not who you wish you were.

What About You?

1. What have you struggled to accept about yourself? 
2. What do you keep beating yourself up about from the past? Which parts of you do you keep hiding or rejecting? 
3. How could you start to show these parts of you more compassion, starting today?

Matthew Hussey