Enoughness

The whirlwind and glow of the holidays are upon us. Twinkle lights are beginning to shine around the city, and my warmest jackets are already in heavy rotation. I’ve been thinking a lot about grace this month—grace for myself and for the people I encounter throughout my days and weeks.

Lately, I’ve noticed a theme running through these encounters…a personal unraveling of sorts. And to be honest, it hasn’t been pretty. But there is something about that unraveling that I’ve decided to call brave. In allowing myself to stand up, to be seen, to be vulnerable, I can feel the armor I’ve built over the years beginning to crack.

There is a particular kind of panic that rises in me when I’m put on the spot and asked to speak about something that relates specifically to me—especially in a group setting. It feels like being a small ant caught in a searing beam of light under a magnifying glass: pulse racing, sweat forming, breath shortening, the edges of the world dimming. Anxiety in its purest physical form. And yet, despite how terrifying it feels, I’ve been pushing myself to speak anyway—so that I can be heard not just by the group, but inside my own body.

I’ve been forcing myself to stand up for who I am and what I believe in—sometimes discovering what that is in real time as the words come out. Terrifying. And for so many people, it seems to come easily. I marvel at those who can speak publicly without hesitation, confidently sharing who they are and what they stand for. I long for that kind of ease, that kind of self-assuredness.

Still, I’m learning to root for myself and for these small wins. I have never been someone who takes up much space in the larger world. I grew up acutely aware of how others perceived me, of how to behave in order to “fit in.” That lesson was so deeply ingrained that somewhere along the way, I stopped learning how to be comfortable using my own voice at all.

Now, I have gotten along remarkably well. In many areas of my life—my passions, my work—I feel grounded and confident in a leadership role. But there remains a chasm between the voice that knows and the voice that fears being misunderstood or accidentally rocking the boat.

I suppose I am writing all of this to say that I’m learning that being brave enough to say who you are can be the hardest task of all. Not posting online or cultivating a social presence. Not the body of work you’ve built or the family you’ve created. But the simple, profound act of answering the question: Who are you, and what do you stand for? I have come to believe that the answer is rooted in worthiness—trusting that who I am is enough, and that whatever I say will be an extension of that enoughness.

In this season of extravagance and celebration, but also loneliness and uncertainty, perhaps it is enough to remember that we are all worthy. Worthy of love, of respect, of feeling understood, of being seen. The world is loud and chaotic these days. May we all find the courage to use our voices for truth and for goodness.