(This post was orginally published on Leah's blog in January. She graciously allowed us to repost it here) This is a post I've been wanting to write for awhile. I realized about 3 weeks ago while working on Sinkhole just how much some rippling issues were...
I wait patiently for the session during which my coaching client whispers, “I am enough”. It always comes. It comes after a grueling internal battle between “should be” and “am”, or a descent down a steep ravine of fear and doubt that eventually leads to...
When I was in my very early twenties, I wrote this little snippet in my journal about my enoughness: You told me once I'm ugly, that no one could ever love me. In fact, you told me many, many times. You also told me I was...
I am just like you: doing my best to love life in spite of my flaws. Some days it’s easy. I see joy everywhere and feel so connected. Then there are the times I get stuck inside my head, heart heavy with fog. On these days I search for (extra)ordinary little miracles: Pot of French Earl Grey Perfect...
When I went public again with my blog a few months ago after an intensely private time in my life, I slowly stopped writing about coming out. I wouldn’t say I went back into hiding; maybe even the opposite is true. I resumed writing about...
Enough to Change the World Sometimes, “I am enough” comes with a quiet surrender to all we can’t do. It’s the recognition of “I am enough, even though I can’t end world hunger.” “I am enough, even without leading a movement of thousands.” “I am enough,...
I am Enough. Am I? YES! Why? Why? That is the question here. I think that all women have such a deep rooted force within that pushes us to try to be the very best. Best Wife. Best Mother. Best Friend. Best Daughter. Best. Best. Best. And the list goes on and on...
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 was born into the energy of “I am not enough”. My mother had it, my father had it, my culture reeked of it. My mother was mentally ill, my father was a recovering addict turned preacher…both trying to prove they were enough living as...
I am enough. Surely I came into this world knowing this, yet somehow, I sloughed off this belief layer by layer. And replaced it with hard-edged, cruel fillers: I am ugly. I am dumb. I am inarticulate. I am certainly not enough. The hows and whys of this deflating departure are...