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I'm Not Good Enough...

The Corner of Walk, Don't Walk

By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️Published 2 years ago 3 min read
Top Story - February 2025
I'm Not Good Enough...
Photo by Jonatán Becerra on Unsplash

This hit a little harder today…

That negative voice that’s in my mind.

Whether it’s my voice, your voice, or their voice makes no never mind.

It’s the sound of failure.

It’s the sound of “I’m not good enough.”

And it burns like a wasp sting.

It drowns you.

It chokes the breath right out of your throat,

Until you’re grasping at air,

Trying to release the phantom grip.

I’M

NOT

GOOD

ENOUGH.

How long has this suffocated me?

How long will it continue to bring me down?

~

I was four when I remember the first instance of this agony.

I wasn’t able to read out loud.

I stuttered.

I was a small child.

I was bullied.

~

Fourth grade, I had a few friends.

I had a saving grace of a friend who was a shield against the bullies.

With her help, I barely began to find my own voice.

~

Eight grade, fate destroyed everything in me.

She was taken away by the angels.

My heart shattered.

My world collapsed.

I was so broken.

~

There’s so much more that’s happened to me

So much more to reinforce the notion

That I’ll never be good enough.

There’s so much pain and trauma in my childhood.

I’m like the China doll,

Fragile and ready to break.

~

I contemplated suicide.

I took handfuls of pills.

I wanted to die.

But God said no.

Said there was something deliverable inside of me

Something I had to do in life,

Before I could come home.

~

I covered up the scars.

I let the anger fuel me.

Even as the scenario changed.

When my parents divorced,

I ended up at a new school,

Made new friends,

Made a name for myself

As I stood up to the bullies.

~

Every bad thing that’s happened since then,

Has threatened to tear me apart.

Every person whose hurt me since then,

Has practically gotten away with murder.

I caved into myself.

I amplified the voice screaming

I’m not good enough.

~

Now here we are,

33 years into the future before I can take the first breath to say something different.

Before I took that thought,

Took the sickness crippling me

And placed it in a box

Safely in my mind

Away from reality.

~

Tears poured down my face.

Ache filled my chest.

When I thought about the worst voice,

The nail driven into the grave

His voice,

Saying things like:

You’ll never be a good mother.

Why would someone have children when someone who’s mental?

You’ll never amount to anything.

You don’t matter to me.

~

Broken

That China doll took a nosedive for the ground

From high upon her shelf.

Fear runs rapid through her solid veins

The floors coming up fast

Will she shatter into a hundred pieces?

Will she break?

~

Heart swollen,

Emotions beating at my conscious mind

I reach out to catch the doll

“Not today,” I whisper.

Tears fill my eyes

There’s so much pain inside

I really just want to leave it all behind

But I can’t

I can’t let myself break

~

Words sting like the branch slapping against skin

Emotions bleed like the broken heart

Bleeding on the stage

The curtains flare back

A bright light cascades over my face

I know they’re there

I know their faces linger in the darkness

The stark shadows standing out against the blackness engulfing the stage.

~

I remember it

Like yesterday

Standing on the stage in the theatre room

As I recited,

“The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe” written by Jane Wagner

At that pivotal corner of

“Walk, Don’t Walk.”

I remember the fear

I remember the silence as the audience waited patiently on me to speak my piece.

And suddenly I laugh as if I am the character,

Rambling on with her craziness.

~

Is that how you see me now?

I’m not good enough to be anything else.

Will I ever be?

Maybe ‘not today.’

Today is a day of healing and feeling

Today is a day of boxing up that dreaded emotion

Boxing up those stupid words

And chaining them down

Until they can’t escape the box again.

~

I AM ENOUGH.

recoverystigmaptsddepressionselfcareanxietytherapysupportbipolarcopingtrauma

About the Creator

Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️

Come sit with me awhile. Writing is my favorite kind of magic—conjuring dark worlds, forbidden souls, and stories that haunt long after the last page. Lately, I’ve wandered deeper into psychology, the mind, and the shadows within us all...

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    Written by Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️