When Will Good Enough Be Good Enough?

My husband recently wrote me a letter, as we do for one another whenever he is away traveling for work, and in it he wrote out a description of some of the qualities he loves most about me. One of those qualities was that I am constantly seeking for improvement, whether it’s personal improvement in my physical, emotional, or spiritual well-being, or in my profession as a teacher, or in our relationship in all of its many forms.

At first when I read that, I smiled. Yes. That’s me! I thought. In many ways, constantly aspiring for better, more, for improvement can be a gift, a blessing. It creates a goal-oriented, high achieving individual who works hard. But the other side of that coin can also be disturbingly dark. Because if you are constantly striving for more, it’s nearly impossible to be satisfied with what you have. It’s hard to pause and recognize and – dare you? – maybe even give yourself a little credit for all you’ve worked so hard to achieve.

It led me to a question I’ve been batting around in my head for years now and have recently been coming to close grips with through a number of personal experiences and interactions with others. When will good enough be good enough?

Our society certainly applauds and elevates high-achievers, self-improvement, never being satisfied, always striving for more. But this comes at a great cost. What is the point of all of this striving if we never quite know when we’ve arrived? If we never know when what we have achieved is enough?

Whether it’s in running, my job, my relationships, my body, my faith, as a therapist many years ago one cautioned me, “There’s always going to be a monkey on your back.” There’s always going to be house work to do, a lesson to plan, an church function to volunteer at, weeds to pull. If I can only ever be satisfied and allow myself to rest on my accomplishments once every possible task is completed, one every imaginable goal is achieved, I will NEVER be satisfied.

I don’t want to spend my life aimlessly running on this treadmill of to-dos, should, musts, ought-tos.

I want to be present.

I want to be here in this moment soaking in gratitude for the people and things and opportunities in my life that I may not deserve, but am allowed to appreciate anyway.

I want to experience joy. A deep, warm, all-encompassing joy that comes not from all of the laundry being neatly folded away in drawers, or at finally having achieved that life-long marathon PR, or even at teaching a child to read. But instead, a joy that comes from knowing that I am innately valuable because I exist.