ON INSUFFICIENCY

Insufficiency. The feeling has been with me since I was a child and felt I could not do enough to be sure my mother loved me. Love was not unconditional. Being was not enough. Love took lots of doing. And even all that doing never felt like enough.

I recently received at questionnaire at my doctor's office. It was supposed to measure my sense of well-being, at least that is what they said. Lots of questions, multiple choice answers. "Have you considered suicide?" When? Never? Sometimes? Today? Yesterday? The day before that? No matter how many choices they give, how do you answer a question like that? All of the above? None of the above? How about: "None of your fucking business." Circle one.

Next question:

"Do you feel you cannot do enough?" The possible answers ranged from "Never" to '"Sometimes" to "Always." A disturbing question, but the answer to this one was easy: Always. Let's make that, ALWAYS!

Enough never happens to me. I wouldn't know how it feels.

How much is enough? People say, "Enough is enough" or "Enough already." But no matter what, there is more to be done. More work, more love, more parent, more child, more husband, more marriage, more success, more words, more books, more of everything. Do more chores! More and still more. No matter what you do. Do more.

In exchange you will what? Pay me more? Love me more (or love me at all)? Be more married? More and more and more.

No matter what I will continue to feel that I have not done enough. Never. I learned it at my mother's knee.