Ingrained Beliefs

An essay about why I've always felt like my best was never good enough. It's very personal.

All my life, I have been put down. Perhaps that is why I don't have any confidence in myself when it comes to finding a job. No matter what I have doe, hard hard I tried, or how well I thought I did, it was never good enough for the person I wanted to please. I remember getting 70% on a Health test I did once. I studied hard for the test because my father told me he would give me $20.00 if I did well. I thought I had done well when I got that test back. My mother was proud of me, but when I showed it to my father, he said "That's it? You couldn't do any better than that?" I felt so low. Why wasn't that mark good enough? I had done the best I could, so why wasn't he proud of me like my mother was? Wasn't my best good enough? All my life, I have striven for things, done the best I could, and was shot down by a mere word of disappointment. When you try to please others, your best is never good enough. That is what I learned.

I don't think I was ever good enough for my father. My mother told me he had wanted a boy, and that she thought he didn't want me when he first saw me. I was only a child when she told me this; it made me cry. I was Daddy's Girl; how could he not want me? She quickly assured me that she had been wrong, but perhaps she was right. After I turned ten, my father barely noticed me. I remember piggy-back rides, treats after work, help with my homework, ice cream, joy rides, music out in front of the house late at night; all of this before the age of ten. After I was ten, it didn't seem like he cared to spend time with me anymore. He would rather go out to the bar and drink beer. I remember endless arguing while I was laying in bed, even before the age of ten. I remember when I was nine, and how I hear my father hit my mother twice. The next morning, she came in and told me he was gone. I didn't go to school that day. I cried, because I didn't want him to leave me. It's too bad, really, since he left me a year later anyway. At least in spirit.

I never failed one grade while my parents were together; not one. I even managed to pass grade eight somehow, even during the split up. We lived at my father's parents' place for a while, until we went back home to pack up and leave. Not once did I ever let my mother see me cry in those days; not once. I remember one night, even after the years of neglect, that I cried because I missed him; I wanted to hug him. I wanted things to be the way they were supposed to be. We were supposed to be a happy family. However, that night when my father was drunk, and grabbed my mother by the throat, telling her he didn't want either of us; the pain quickly turned to hate, especially since my mother never had anything good to say about my father. I remember that nothing he ever did was ever good enough for her, and she pushed him far, far away. Once he was gone, she turned toward me, letting out all of her frustration. I wasn't doing well enough in school for her, she wanted me to see a counsellor, we had no relationship, she'd talk openly on the phone about me, saying nasty things while I was sitting right across from her. All of these things...all of them caused me to feel like I could never be good enough, even if I did the very best I could do.

Even school started to make me feel this way. Back when I was fourteen and fifteen, I didn't care all that much. I turned myself off because I couldn't handle all of the stress. I let myself fail grade ten. I passed grade nine, but barely. It wasn't because I tried. Even when I started doing the best I could, after I started caring again, it wasn't good enough. It wasn't enough to get me passing math or science. I had to do level one math three times before I passed...with a 50; the lowest passing mark. Math was never ever my strong point, but I felt it to be pretty pathetic that I couldn't even pass level one (aka grade ten) math. I didn't pass level one science until my very last year of high school; level four. Level four was only for people who failed to graduate in three years; 10, 11, & 12. I remember in grade ten when my mother would keep telling me I wasn't doing good enough because she didn't want me to fail. I realize that she thought I could do better...but I was far too depressed and troubled to care. I was doing the best I could, but as I had learned years earlier...my best was never good enough; not for anyone I was trying to please. Therefore, it was never good enough for myself either.

If decent grades weren't good enough for my father, they couldn't be good enough for myself. If the work I did, no matter how hard I worked on it, wasn't good enough for the teacher, I failed the course, causing me to look like a failure in my own eyes. If the way I did the dishes wasn't my mother's way, it was wrong, and so the way I did things wasn't good enough. If my mother was never happy with anything I did, then why try? I might as well give up, so then I don't have a reason to feel like shit each and every time she screams at me because I didn't do something her way. Eventually, she started screaming at me because I didn't do anything, but that didn't effect me, because I didn't do anything to let it hurt me. I eventually became numb to it; like a buzzing in the ears; just an annoyance. She wanted me to help her and respect her, but when I did help and do my best to do whatever she wanted, even though I didn't want to do it, it was never good enough. Why waste energy on doing anything when all it's going to do is get me put down again? Why bother to do anything, hope that I did well, and get let down? I stopped doing everything, even school work, because it didn't feel like there was any point. I wouldn't have a reason to feel bad about it if I didn't try.

It's the same with jobs. The managers size you up before they even meet you, judge you, ask you questions, judge you on your answers, even if they know it's your first time and you're obviously nervous. If you don't do well enough, if they don't think you're good enough, they forget about you. You're like yesterday's trash. Then, when you call back, they don't even remember your name, and if you get the slightest glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you did well, you crash, because you are nothing to them. It doesn't matter how big your smile is, how good your handshake is. When it comes down to it, they look at you, judge you, and toss you aside if you don't look like what they want. That is how it always feels. I was never good at lying. If I am asked if I mind being called in on a morning shift, I won't deny that I am not a morning person. Then, just like that, they shoot you down and forget you, because they don't think they can rely on you. But who likes getting up in the morning anyway? No one does, but that doesn't mean they won't force themselves up and work, because they need the money, and they need the job to get that money. In the end, even my honesty isn't good enough. My looks aren't good enough, my answers aren't good enough; nothing I do is good enough, even when I'm doing my very best. To get anywhere in life, you need to please others, not yourself. It's better when you can please yourself, but when you know nothing else besides pleasing others, it's hard to be pleased with your best when you don't get what you're trying for.

I have never ever succeeded when it came to doing my best, and when I have, it wasn't enough to boost my confidence; not even when I finally graduated from high school. I looked at the report card, even though I was terrified that I had failed, and I still felt like a failure, even though I had passed. I remember the first time I ever passed everything on my report card. I was so, so very happy, and actually proud of myself. I had expected my mother to feel the same way when I showed it to her. However, when she looked at it, she had said nothing. She had been too busy phoning someone to pay attention. What a blow to the heart that was; a big blow to my ego, who has a pedestal only one inch off the ground. No one believe in me or Robert when we decided to move out either. No one thought the day would ever come. It came because I was desperate to graduate. My mother had caused me to fail my midterms, and my grades were in danger. I gave up on level two math for months...but it really hit me when the finals came close. I worked so hard; did my very best...and still, I only got a 50 average. It's really disappointing when you do the very best you can, you only come out with the lowest passing mark. It made me really think the teacher just took pity on me, since I did both the final and the practical exam. The practical exam would be my average if I failed the final. When I did the final, I nearly cried. When I had done the final for level one math, I had cried for nearly a half an hour in the public exam room. I have no confidence in myself; no one ever supported me enough. No one ever believed in me besides Robert. It wasn't enough for me to be confident.

As can be seen, I never really had much of a supportive family. No one really believe in me, and no one bothered to encourage me. My mother tried, but she only made me feel like I wasn't doing good enough. Robert was there through all the tears, all the panic, stress, worry, fear...and if it weren't for him keeping me stable enough to at least try, I would have most definitely failed. Throughout all of this, he was my only support. He was the only person who ever believed in me, encouraged me, and showed that he was proud of me. He was the only person that ever told me that, as long as I did my best, it was good enough. I couldn't believe him, because if the teacher failed me, how could my best be good enough? If I never pleased anyone but him, how could me best ever be good enough? This what hurts me the most, I think; that no one ever once told me that they were proud of me just because I did my best. No one but Robert.

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I don't want critiques on this. Go away.

08-27-2006 was when this was written.