I was having a bad day, not like a crazy bad day – I still had a roof over my head, blanket to keep me warm and food to eat bad day.
One of those days, I couldn’t handle the stress and manage my own expectations of myself and what others were expecting of me. So I wanted to tell myself that I was not enough, not good enough, not pretty enough, not slim, not smart enough, or fast and efficient enough.
Don’t ask why, but when you start, it just gets worst.
And I know that road too damn well. So before I start suffocating myself. I looked around me. Then I closed my eyes and tried to recall dad’s voice, and how he would call everyday and ask about my day. So I dug a little deeper, imagine what the conversation might have entailed.
“You’re good enough, good daughter, pretty enough, the smartest, the fastest, you’re my girl.”
And I drove home, knowing that. Trying to accept another dimension of myself, even when I don’t feel it.
Miss you dad.