Inktober 2025 - 9 - Heavy

My whole life I have been told and showed very clearly that I am not enough. But on the other hand, I have also been made to understand that, somehow, I should be. And it has nevery really been made clear what "enough" is.

I feel like I do my best, like I apply to every task set in front of me. I was good at school, getting good grades and never getting into trouble. History and Geography were not my strong suits, but Maths, Physics, Biology, those subjects made sense to me. I was not remarkably brilliant at any of them, but I did fine. I enjoyed languages, too. As extracurriculars, I did my very best to rise up to every challenge; I can swim, ski, ride a horse, shoot a bow, shoot a rifle, ride a bike, … The only thing I ever truly spectacularly failed at was music. I was put through music school, even though I had absolutely no aptitude for it, and it got to the point where I ended up hating it and blocking most memories of that time. I do enjoy listening to music, dancing (as much as swaying to the beat can be considered dancing), those sort of things, but when it comes to being a musician, I freeze up.

All in all, I don't feel unaccomplished, though. And I don't think this is how I should feel. Yet somehow, it still is not good enough.

I used to have big plans for my future job, and at first, people used to tell me that I would change my mind. When it became clear that I would not, they started telling me that it was too hard. And it turned out they were right, and I failed. I failed up, as they say, and still ended up with a higher education that was nothing to be ashamed of, that some are even extremely proud of, but that is still not good enough. Not for me, mind you. That is more than enough for me. Most of the things I have learned, I never wanted to learn them in the first place, and I did not even enjoy learning them anymore than I enjoy knowing them now. I just went through it because that was what was expected of me. At least, so I thought, since it was never really made clear what the expectations were. The only thing that was ever apparent, is that I never met them in the slightest.

Now, I am aware of how I sound, how ungrateful and sheltered. Poor girl who grew up in a flourishing environment, had everything at her fingertips, didn't do particularly bad, and somehow still isn't satisfied. It's pathetic. And I know very well how much worse it could have been. I should be content with my lot. And the worse part is that I actually am. I do think I am lucky and doing all right. So why does everything always feel so heavy, like I haven't heard good news in ages and things are only ever going to get worse?