“It’s good enough just being me.”
There may only be a handful of people who remember that
Elder Hales spoke those words at a normal, regular Sacrament Meeting in the
Holladay 29th Ward many years ago. (Normal, aside from the fact that
a member of the Quorum of the Twelve was speaking to us!) His words had a big
impact on me.
This was one of two messages that stood out to me*.
Mostly because I didn’t expect an Apostle to be preaching self-acceptance; if
anything, I would have expected a message on charity, or selfless service to
others, or sacrificing yourself for the sake of others, etc. But his message
was, essentially, love yourself.
And this wasn’t just a message, it was instruction. He
instructed us to go home that day, look at ourselves in a mirror and say, “it’s
good enough just being me.” I felt that I needed to take his counsel. I went
home, as instructed. I stood in front of the mirror, as instructed (I’m already
feeling uncomfortable at this point). I look at myself, but not in the eyes,
and I hear Elder Hales’ voice in my head, telling me what to say, and… I
couldn’t do it. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t voice the words that were echoing
through my mind. I just couldn’t say it. And I was so disappointed in myself –
ashamed, actually.
I couldn’t say those words, because I didn’t believe
them. The idea, the concept, was foreign to me. I had tried the experiment in
the hopes that by saying it out loud it would help me believe it, but when it
came to the actual moment, I couldn’t do it. It felt too false and I didn’t
want to voice a lie.
It is many years later, now, and I have learned many
things since that time. I have learned that I grew up in a shaming environment.
(Side Note: I don’t want you read the word “shame” and hear “bad,” “unloving,”
“harsh,” etc. My parents were loving and generous and made enormous sacrifices
for our happiness. We did have many, many good times. But in spite of their
good intentions, the nature of our interpersonal interactions had the effect of
instilling shame in me; unintentionally, certainly, but constantly there, just
the same.)
For those who may not really know the difference between
guilt and shame, it boils down to this. Guilt says, “I did something bad.” Shame says, “I am bad.”
Shame is concrete. Heavy. Immutable. Immovable. Shame is
like a virus on identity, it hijacks it and starts replicating itself,
producing more and more until the whole system is overwhelmed, ultimately
altering identity. It can lead to breakdown, as in illness, or in some cases,
it does lead to death, typically suicide. Shame can become so pervasive that it
seems that the only way out from under it, is to destroy the self completely -
annihilate the self, altogether. At least, that’s how it felt for me.
Shame became a source of fear. I never felt safe. Shame
became a foggy, fun-house mirror. I could never see myself clearly. When I did
look in the mirror, what I saw was someone who was ugly; someone deserving of
punishment and suffering; someone who was worthless. Someone who was never
enough.
I suppose, to be fair, there are lots of reasons why
someone might feel like they are “not enough,” but for me, it was shame. So
when I tried to follow a prophet’s counsel that day, the reason I couldn’t
speak those words was because, when I looked in the mirror, all I saw was
shame. I KNEW I wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t just a thought, or a feeling, or
a suspicion, or even a belief, it was knowledge – certain, factual knowledge –
that I wasn’t good enough. You know what’s really interesting? I don’t even
know what I “wasn’t enough” for! If you had asked me, “what is it you’re not
good enough for?” I would have looked at you with a dumbfounded, blank stare. “I
don’t know... life?” I might’ve said. But that’s kind of why “not good enough”
can seem so powerful, because it’s all encompassing. It can apply to anything.
Oh, you like to paint? You’re not good enough to be a real artist. Oh, you like
to sing? You’re not good enough to be a professional singer. (Heck, you’re not
even good enough to sing in the shower, let alone in front of other people.)
Oh, you actually like school? You’re not smart enough to get straight A’s like
everyone else does. Oh, you like to be active? You’re REALLY not good enough to
deserve being thin and athletic. And so on and so on…
But I told myself, there IS a way to be enough, isn’t
there? I mean, there just HAS to be. Wait - I know! “Perfection.” (You see
where I’m going with this?) If I could just be perfect and not EVER mess up or
make a mistake, if I were perfect, then I would be good enough, then I would
measure up, then I would be successful and happy and have no trials…, and all
the other lies that go along with “being perfect.”
Because for all of us mortals currently kickin’ it here
on Earth, perfection isn’t realistic. Earth life IS a place for us to perform,
but it is not the “performance” state, it is the “preparatory” state.
Essentially, life is one big practice round where we are learning to eventually
become perfect one day, long into the future. (Bodies are weird; we need time
to learn how to deal with them!) Yet I act like this dress rehearsal is the
last game of the season and if I mess up, I’m toast. (Yes, I know I’m mixing
metaphors; oh look, another imperfection…!)
The other problem with perfection? Besides not being
attainable in this life? I have the idea that it seems to carry the promise of
relief. Perfect people don’t have trials, or pain, right? I mean, they’re
perfect, so nothing bothers them or gets to them; they never get overwhelmed or
frustrated or angry. Life for perfect people is blissfully happy and serene,
right? Isn’t that ultimate peace/relief? No pain, no trials, no burdens… no
shame? All for the price of just being perfect; just being good enough.
That’s the dynamic that keeps me in a shame loop:
Perfection is the antidote to shame, so I try to be perfect. But because I’m a
“not perfect” human, I mess up and when I mess up I feel shame for not being
perfect, but I know that being perfect will cure the shame because then I won’t
have anything to be ashamed of, so I try to be perfect, only to mess up, shame
myself and so on and so forth.
But every argument is based on suppositions and I’ve got
some doozies here that are quite false. For example, the idea that perfection
means the removal of trials/pain. The Savior was the most perfect person to
ever walk the earth, and not only was he not
spared from experiencing pain, he was actually made to endure a pain that is
unfathomable by man. The most perfect man suffered the greatest pain - ever.
Also, there is scriptural support for the idea that God, our Heavenly Father
(and the Savior), feels sorrow, sadness, jealousy, anger, wrath even. I mean,
come on – seriously, wrath? I don’t think I’ve ever felt wrath. But apparently He does, and He IS perfect. So even if I could be perfect, it wouldn’t relieve me
of feeling pain and sorrow.
One might throw in a valid objection here, “…but aside
from being capable of feeling sorrow, being perfect means you don’t have to
worry about having done anything to feel ashamed of.”And you’d be right. Which
leads me to a harsh truth – you ARE going to do things wrong. You aren’t going
to do things perfectly because you can’t – you are human and flawed and
fallible, and it’s okay!! Heavenly Father allowed you to be this way for a
reason. If he wanted you to BE perfect right now, He would make you perfect right
now. Because of all these things, the “harsh reality truth” is that, when it
comes to perfection you’re best isn’t good enough, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t good enough.
So what does it mean?
I think it means this: you came here to learn how to be perfect, but, much like learning to play an
instrument (or a sport or any new skill for that matter), you have to make a
lot of wrong notes in order to learn how to play the right ones. With ongoing,
long-term, consistent practice, eventually, you learn to play all the right
notes, to play it perfectly, but playing it perfectly doesn’t make you any more
important or worthy than you already were while you were practicing, it just
means you’ve improved your ability in that skill. This life is all about
learning to be perfect one day (i.e., through practice) and not to be perfect right now.
There is also the false assumption that perfection equals
protection. This is the idea that if I’m good enough, i.e., perfect, I will be
protected from having bad things happen to me. I mean, don’t we read that in
the scriptures? That when His people are faithful the Lord lightens their
burdens so that they can’t feel them? By that definition alone, I’ve never been
good enough. I have burdens!! And I feel them!! Far from being removed, they haven’t
been lightened (that I’m aware of). I mean how can you go through life, feeling
occasionally suicidal and still believe that your burdens have been “lightened?”
You can’t! At least, I can’t anyway. But much like feeling “bad” things,
perfection, even if I had it, wouldn’t protect me from bad things happening.
The Lord may have lightened burdens for his faithful people, but they were
still in bondage… Being perfect didn’t protect the Savior from ridicule, hatred
and scorn. It didn’t protect him from being crucified.
So it starts to feel hopeless. If being perfect doesn’t prevent
bad things from happening, what’s the point of trying? The point is, we were
meant to grow to be like our Father in Heaven – some day. Meaning, perfection
IS attainable, but it has to be learned and learning takes… you guessed it –
trial and error. You may not be good enough to be perfect right now, but you are good enough to be learning how to be perfect some day.
Maybe this is, in part, why President Boyd K. Packer said:
“It was meant to be that life would be a challenge. To
suffer some anxiety, some depression, some disappointment, even some failure is
normal. Teach our members that if they have a good, miserable day once in a
while, or several in a row, to stand steady and face them. Things will
straighten out. There is great purpose in our struggle in life” (That
All May Be Edified [1982], 94, emphasis added).
I guess my point is this: My best isn’t good enough to be
perfect, but it is good enough for just about everything else. In other words, for
right now, “it’s good enough just being me.”
*The other message was how strengths can also be
weaknesses, which kind of blew my mind, but more on that another time.
