17 May I am enough from Roxanne Galpin
For as long as I can remember I have desperately wanted to belong. I have always felt odd, apart from, and less than ~ a freak among the ordinary shine. I have a secret compartment inside my mind that holds a big stick with which I beat myself. As I grow older, the stick grows heavier and more painful to wield. And the shadow of perfectionism looms ever larger. This shadow has always cast a darkness across my self, a darkness which ate away at me, from the inside and created a sort of paralyzing inertia.
I strove ~ overachieved, trying to fill the dark emptiness by overachieving either at school, work, within intimate relationships or through motherhood. Still, I never felt enough. The voice in my head whispering “I am not enough” simply grew louder, every time I tried to drown it. I told myself that, if I could just kill the voice telling me I am not enough, I would suddenly become worthy ~ “enough”. So then I set out to kill the voice, half knowing the true identity of said voice: me. That knowledge did not seem to matter. From where does this self-loathing come? Brain chemistry or hard wiring? I do not know.
And so, I began to inhale life solely through lines of cocaine, and eventually, brillo in a crack pipe. I told myself the lie that cocaine made me feel more alive, worthy ~ enough. Denial became the weapon through which I kept myself insulated from reality. In truth, I stopped caring, since nothing mattered beyond scoring the next 20 rock. When I made getting high the only thing that mattered in my life, I’d given up on myself. Once in a while I caught a glimpse of the real me, beneath all the layers of my addiction and obsession. A sense of unworthiness, that I am not enough, screamed at me. I saw myself as a wretch and a cesspool of ugliness and deception.
How ironic that the quest to become worthy ~ to become enough ~ had led me to the ugliest places in Vancouver society. I often felt insane, as though losing my mind. I turned to healing only when the virulent of my addiction had finally succeeded in rendering me homeless. Only when I had nowhere else to go, did I seek the path of healing through drug rehabilitation. It took the loss of my job, career, home, and all of my belongings in order to gain the freedom of feeling worthy, of feeling that I am enough. I had stripped myself bare in my efforts to find myself and my “enough-ness”.
I have learned that “enough” does not lie in the size of my bank account, IQ or dress, nor does it lie in the amount of possessions I have amassed. I have learned that I cannot buy “enough” at the Holt Renfrew cosmetics counter or from the crack dealers in the Downtown Eastside. I have learned that “enough” does not embed itself into those parchments I received from University. I have learned that “enough” does not come from a wedding day or a cervix dilated. I have learned that each of us enters this world as “enough”, and that “enough” lives and breathes inside me. “Enough” will shine from within, if only we let it.
About Roxanne Galpin
People dear to me have affectionately described me as fury wrapped in a daffodil, cuddly as a jelly fish, and a sweetheart in a flak jacket. Under all this I am just me ~ Roxanne, a girl who likes cats, puppies, all things pink, Rumi, sunsets and dark chocolate. I have many roles ~ mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, writer, photographer and artist. I have 9 months of clean time under my belt. Currently, I’m writing my first book, toying with a concept which I hope to turn into an e-course and trying to figure out how to begin promoting my photography. You can find me at my Frizzy Talks In Her Sleep and The Beauty of Broken Dreams blogs, on Flickr, and on Facebook.