On Being Enough...

Of late, I've been dwelling on the concept of "being enough". I've been under the spell of a miserable, arduous, and long application for a fellowship that I've been coveting for the last three years. They say third time's a charm...we'll see about that. I'm not hopeful. In truth the actual spell only lasted from sat-weds, but its been a peripheral part of my life for the last three years.

You see, I'm exhausted.

I didn't make it past the prelims the first time around most likely because I was a young, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed graduate student. I wanted to change the world...but so did the rest of America. The feedback I got went something along the lines of, "you need to be more specific, tell them exactly what you want to do, who you want to serve, sell yourself in a way that will make them sit up and pay attention."

I spent all of Christmas and New Year's working on the same application for the second time last year. I remember slaving over every sentence. Craft a story. Be specific. Tell them exactly what you are going to do. Highlight the need. I finished a week before the deadline. Had my genius sister read through it. Had my a friend in journalism school read through it. Had a friend working on her Ph.D in economics read through it.

It was solid. It was made up of everything I had...blood, sweat, and tears included.

It was solid BUT...it wasn't enough.

The feedback went something like this: "Your application was solid. You made it to the final round. There were questions of whether it would make it, but its hard to understand why it stopped there. We can't predict the applicant pool. You're moving in the right direction". They wanted me to apply again ??? "You were clear. You communicated your goals very well. You just need to put some of that passion back into it. You need to sell yourself w/more passion. Try to come back stronger and better next time". Stronger? Better? Are you Serious?

I decided I would try again. One final time this year though I wasn't sure what I would change. My experience level has increased. I'm older, no longer bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I still have hopes and dreams of changing the world, but I'm willing to settle for just healthcare policy right now.

I decided I wouldn't spend all of my Christmas or New Year's on it this time. Avoidance is like ignorance in that it can be blissful...or so I thought. Until I finally sat down on Friday night to look at the same annual material...for the third time. I chickened out after 30 min and decided I would find inspiration in a book entitled "What should I do with My Life?" Too bad I fell asleep at page 47. I don't really know if I fell asleep at page 47. I just know I woke up with my face crinkled between 47 and 53 and since I prefer to be conservative in my estimate, I'll just say it was page 47.

Enough is enough. Sat-Weds and I'm finally done. The spell is broken...as is my pride, dignity, and sense of self. I feel like I might cry and no, it's not the Chariots of Fire kind of crying. I've come to realize that I hate having to sell myself. I hate having to prove myself...and I'll just lay my cards out on the table and say that I hate it because when all is said and done, or in this case written, I feel like its just not enough...nothing is ever enough. And this feeling has a way of highlighting the many other times in my life when, well frankly, I just haven't been enough.

I could go on and on about this...the concept of being enough that is. Its a concept that inserted itself into every facet of my life. Professional, relational, & personal. It explains why I avoid dating, why I obsess over all my clinical reports, why I agonize over having to embellish my own recommendation letters, why I can't just run 3 or 4 miles and instead have to run 9 or 10, why I can't just say "no" to another project (although I do work under Dr. Chu and that woman can sell ice to eskimos), why I can't just stop where I am and go to sleep.

So there you have it...the struggle between me and "being enough". I think its a fine and dandy sort of tug-of-war game except that I'm so tired and worn out from having had to sell myself over the last few years. I don't really feel like playing anymore. So long Mr. "being enough". I've had enough of you.

The Story

For You Christina Ha As You Take off for the Windy City...

When we first met, I was writing the story of my life and so were you. I knew next to nothing of your story just as you did of mine. I wanted to call my story "Porcelain Paradise". I thought it to be a very fitting title. It never crossed my mind that we'd be friends. It never crossed my mind that anyone around me would ever understand who I was, why I was who I was, or why the story of my life was being titled "Porcelain Paradise".

As impeccable of a memory as I have, I can't recall the exact moment when it all clicked for me and you. I remember sharing my testimony in our small women's group 6 years ago...how you arrived late, listened, and then left. I remember listening to your testimony a few weeks later. Even though I wanted to react, I didn't...I couldn't. I was different back then and so were you. So we began to share a few dark and twisty moments. We both liked to run...and so we started running together. We ran so long and so far that it seemed like it would never stop...it wouldn't stop...not on its own. I remember when it all went to hell for you and the night we stood under 4th of July firework-filled sky, both feeling weak, tired, and numb. I remember when I was just about at rock bottom and the night we sat in a small Mediterranean Cafe barely nibbling away at our food...both feeling unsure, alone, and stuck.

And then your story took off and you lost the dark & twisty. I remember holding onto mine as you shared your good news with me. I was happy for you. I remember telling you "God is so good to you" and wondering to myself when He might decide to be good to me as well. I caught on a while later...10 months later to be exact. It was as though we were a stained and slightly buckled jigsaw puzzle w/some pieces missing...but now there were at least a few border pieces in place...enough to make a full picture...or so we thought.

You went 3 years and I went 2.5 before the picture came undone again. Instead of circling back to that painful bend in the road...the one that had gripped us for so long, we were both somehow able to remember that we still had those border pieces in place...the ones that helped us find our way out of that self-made rabbit hole of a hell we had created for ourselves long before we first met. I remember the afternoon you held my hand as you cried your way through the story of those last 3 years and the morning after the 2.5 years when I could barely see straight and you let me cry on your shoulder. "Love, Lavender Honey, and lots of Curry"...that was your MO....and then came the next 11 months: the trips to LA, adventures in Haiti & Miami, late night pillow talks and phone calls, crazy times of laughter...lots of laughter.

In the last 6 years, I've come to understand just enough about life to understand that I don't understand much of anything...except that our lives were meant for more than where we were allowing ourselves to take them. Thanks for being there to learn this with me. Thanks for being there to laugh and cry with me, to teach me how to be shameless, and show me how to hold onto my heart a little less tightly. Thanks for always being there to pray with me and to call me out when I've been over-rational & over-logical. Thanks for understanding exactly what I mean when I tell you that 95% of the time I feel positive about life but that 5% percent of the time I feel like...well like everything is PUKE. Thanks for challenging me to bring that 5% down to 2%. Most of all, thanks for journeying alongside me during the most painful yet most formative times...from dark & twisty to shiny, happy, and new.

Tomorrow, you start the next chapter of your story and though we won't be in the same place, I wanted this to be a reminder that we are both still writing the story of our life. We want to know what it's about, what are its themes and which theme is on the rise. We want to know where we are headed. We want to ensure that we will get there and that when we do, we will look back and know it was not all in vain...that we mattered and made a difference somewhere or to someone. And while life does not seem to present itself to us for our convenience, to box itself up so nicely that we could talk about it with wisdom and a point to make before putting it on a shelf somewhere, I'm certain that this story of our life--the one with laughter, adventures, risks, and faith--will be wrapped with the courage to get it right and to fight hard for what we love.

Here's to loving you like a fat kid love cake.