When “Good” Doesn’t Feel Good Enough

There are days when I wake up and wonder why I’m still fighting this fight. Why, no matter how hard I push, how much I pour of myself into the work, into the dream, into the life I’m building—“good” still feels like it’s falling short. It’s like giving everything you have only to be met with silence. Like showing up bloody, bruised, soul-tired, and hearing the faint whisper: not good enough.

That kind of weight sits on your chest in a way you can’t shake. It whispers when you’re painting, when you’re typing an email, when you’re folding laundry. It makes the room feel smaller, the air heavier. And I’ll be honest—I struggle with it every single day. I wrestle with the shadow of “good enough,” and too often, I feel like I lose.

But here’s the thing. Even in those moments when I’m sitting on the floor with my own doubts pressing down like bricks, I notice something: I’m still holding on. Sometimes it’s not a rope or a safety net. Sometimes it’s just the smallest thread—thin, fragile, almost invisible. But it’s there.

And I cling to that damn thread with everything I’ve got.

Because somewhere deep in me, I know that thread isn’t weakness. It’s the start of everything. One day, that tiny sliver of hope, that microscopic grip, is going to be the tug that unravels it all—the fear, the shame, the feeling I am not good enough. That thread is going to start the whole tapestry of a new life coming undone and re-woven in my favor. One day, it’s going to put me in the winning seat.

I believe that. Not because it’s easy, not because I always feel it, but because I refuse to let go.

And if you’re reading this—if you’ve ever felt the sting of “why even bother” or the ache of “what if I’m not enough”—please know this: you’re not alone. I’m right here in the mud with you. Struggling, clawing, holding tight to that one thread. You and me both, showing up every day even when it hurts, even when it feels pointless.

But one day? One day, we’ll be able to celebrate our glory together. We’ll look back and realize that what we thought was barely enough actually was everything we needed. We’ll laugh and cry and raise a glass to the fact that the smallest thread carried the greatest weight.

Until then—hold on with me. Grip it tighter when your hands are slipping. Because if I can do it, and you can do it, then one day we’ll both stand in that light, victorious, free, and more than enough.