The Menagerie, or Am I Good Enough? |2020

Here I sit again, pondering if I am good enough for you, for myself. Am I good enough? Am I unobtainable? Really? Is this a menagerie.

This whole thing is not a recent issue, it has been going on for a very long time. I asked this of myself all the time, am I good enough?

I know I’ve mentioned in a couple of other posts where I have friends who readily suggest to me that I am too hard on myself.

That I am overly critical. Me? Overly critical? Pish Posh to that.

The problem is that I have insanely high standards for myself and when I cannot achieve them, I feel as if I had let myself down in such a completely unacceptable way.

And in that comes a dilemma, if you have goals that are unobtainable and therefore you feel like a failure when you are unable to complete them. No winning. Not good enough.

“I fight this war inside my head where there are no winners, only losers” —antidote, originals series, 9.15.7

The sustainability of questioning yourself and being able to meet and exceed any sort of expectations is just a failure in the making.

I am very familiar with the concept of being a failure. I feel like it every day, I feel like that is who I am. But make no mistake about it, I am not a failure nor am I a loser. I’m just broken.

I’ve been broken for a very long time. I don’t want to blame my ex-wife for this, it’s not her fault. Since that time, eons ago, relationships have been very difficult, especially the one with myself.

It seems that I cannot live up to my own standards. I don’t mean this to be a rehash, it’s just something that is a reoccurring theme in my brain. As if it’s a life theme.

It reminds me in a variety of ways of a Redemption song, The Fullness of Time III: Release. I’m not going to go into detail on the lyrics, but just to note this:

Just release yourself
Cause they can’t rape the willing
Or take what you have if there’s nothing else
Tired of life and filled with despair
And covered with blood from the crosses I bear
But I’m still standing
Should I make myself crawl?
Just release yourself
When you’re wounded by no one else
Rise above pain, most past my despair
And put down the cross that I’ve made myself bear
Now I’m still standing
And I’m not gonna crawl

At some point, I will finally break. Maybe I’ll break being broken. Or perhaps I will break more, nothing that Super Glue can fix. Or duct tape. Or… Or…

Unobtainable? How about unbreakable? Wouldn’t that be a better world, one with happiness? But, the reality is what it is. Or it isn’t, and I really am in a menagerie.