My whole life, I’ve struggled with not feeling good enough. Well, that’s not entirely true. It started when I was ten years old; the year my older sister died. She was smart, got straight A’s, was popular in school, and things just seemed to work out. She was in the gifted and talented program and was the model student. I was the little brother. I didn’t get high grades. In fact, I struggled a lot through school. I was tested for the gifted and talented program, but didn’t make the cut. I was picked on for being fat. I’m also pretty sure I got labeled as gay even before I knew what that word meant.

After my sister died, mom and dad were emotional wrecks. The whole family was. It was 1986. Both of my parents worked and I was suddenly an only child. I had always felt like I was compared to her. I felt like a complete failure at not being in the gifted and talented program. Many of my friends were in it, but I didn’t make the cut. I remember mom and dad being upset with the school for not taking me into the program.

Back then, they’d take these smart kids out of class a couple of days a week and let them work on special projects. They got to dive in to their interests and were encouraged to excel. I felt left out. To me, it was a constant reminder of how I wasn’t good enough to be in with the smart kids. It’s funny how I remember those feelings from when I was in the fourth grade.

When I was in the fifth grade, just a few months after my sister died, I struggled a lot. It felt like everything was hard that year. Kids wouldn’t talk to me on the playground. I was often in my own little world because that’s all there was. Math was my worst subject. I started using a calculator to check my work and I was always wrong. No matter what I did, I sucked at basic arithmetic. That would follow me into high school.

I felt like sixth grade was a good year. I got to start playing a musical instrument. I started on the trombone and then moved to the saxophone. They only let the kids who excelled at their instruments switch to sax. It felt great! I can remember our first band concert in the gym.

Seventh grade was a nightmare. Mom and dad forced me to play football. I didn’t have a clue about how to actually play the game. I wasn’t physically fit enough to make it through the exercises. I got picked on relentlessly at both school and church. There was just no respite because I was an awkward and annoying kid. I remember feeling so lonely. I’d get stressed thinking about having to go to athletics in the afternoons. My stomach hurt. I’d panic. My teachers had no patience for me.

Church was just as bad as school. I was the annoying kid. My sister had been well liked, but I was not. I remember that the youth minister wanted nothing to do with me. Even when I tried to talk to him years later; completely ignored. I remember how that made me feel not good enough to be involved with the other kids. I still get uncomfortable when I remember those things.

If I could go back and be a friend to myself, I’d tell me to embrace who I was. I’d tell me that I was good enough and to stop comparing myself to my sister. I’d tell myself to come out of the closet in high school.

The really messed up thing is that I still feel like I’m not good enough in relation to my sister. I know she would be happily married with kids. Her husband and family would be accepted. I don’t feel like I’ve ever been completely accepted by my family. I know they love me, but even now, I know my dad’s sister doesn’t accept that I’m married. I can’t bring my husband to any family functions. Just thinking about it makes the tears well up.

It’s just a spiral. Those feelings of not being good enough as a child have carried on to the present forty years later. I wasn’t good enough to have a bf or gf in high school. The friends I thought I had in college weren’t actual friends.

This time, I got triggered by the ending of Boots. The kid makes it all the way through marine corps boot camp as a closeted gay teenager. The main character was bettering himself so he would be accepted, but I didn’t have the courage to do anything like that.

But that’s okay. It’s in the past. I forgive myself for not being stronger. I understand that I’ve always been good enough even though I didn’t get the validation I needed. I’m good enough now.

I’ve acknowledged the emotion. I’ve sat with it for a few minutes and understand what it had to tell me. I can let it pass now.

I know I’m a highly sensitive person when it comes to my emotions; I feel emotion much more strongly than others do. I don’t generally have a huge problem being overwhelmed by positive emotions because joy and laughter feel good. The trouble comes from depression, sadness, loneliness, and feeling worthless. When these feelings come, it feels like I’m downing and it takes time for them to pass.

I need to practice not judging my emotions and letting them pass. I need to acknowledge them and remind myself it is okay to feel that way. This is difficult for me to do because I feel like I’m drowning. The emotions consume every part of my body and soul. I get mental tunnel vision and the negativity is all I can see. I begin to think about why bad things always seem to happen and I ask myself why can’t something good happen to me.

I have plenty of good things in my life: my family, my husband, my close friends, my job, etc. I try to remember those things, but I also know they’re temporary; I can lose them at any moment. I begin to panic wondering what there is to hold on to. I look into the possibility that I will end up alone. I don’t have a relationship with any of my cousins. I don’t have a relationship with any aunts and uncles. I barely have a relationship with friends.

I know that’s normal when getting older. Life happens. People and circumstances change. Deep, deep down, I know it will be okay, but I’m clutching the memories so tightly trying to hold on to that feeling of safety I once knew. My heart wants authentic social connection; a sense that I belong to something bigger than just myself.

There’s frustration that connections don’t pan out. There’s despair at the realization I’m not fitting in. There’s desperation at trying to find SOMETHING I have in common with others. There’s realization that I’m a group of one. I like the books I like. I like the movies and music that I like. There’s the tech things I like. Hobbies, on the other hand, seem too hard to do.

I think I need to try just writing on here more often. It helps me to get the thoughts and feels out of my head where I can see them and analyze them. Not everything is a well thought out essay. Sometimes I just need to let it all out like barf on a page because it seems to quiet the emotional beast.