Searching for enough

This past December, I got a tattoo on my wrist that says, in my handwriting, I am enough.

Society and life circumstances have told us over and over that, no matter how hard we try, no matter how much money we spend, that it’s simply not true, we’re not enough. Not pretty enough. Not thin enough. Not feminine enough. Not reserved enough. Not Christian enough.

At the age of 17 I was invited to a meeting with my church’s youth pastors where I was informed I would not be allowed to attend the youth group’s annual missions trip — a trip I had raised money to attend the previous year. I had been dealing with depression and self-harm, and instead of embracing me and seeking to understand why I was choosing self-destructive actions to cope with what was happening in my life at the time, the church decided I was too much of a liability. My body is a temple, and I was destroying it. I was no longer welcome. I wasn’t good enough.

Instead of showing me grace and compassion, I was shown the door.

Fourteen years later, I’m still searching for “enough.” I’ve found a church that welcomes me as I am — scars and all — but the hurt from my past is a roadblock to becoming fully involved. I’m always anticipating the day when I’ll be told I’m no longer welcome because I’m not _________ enough.

My journey to find “enough” has been difficult thus far, and there’s no clear end in sight, but every time I look at my tattoo — every day that I think, “Maybe I am okay” — I’m brought one step closer to finding whatever it is I’m looking for. One step closer to “enough.”