You don’t know me. Some may think they do, but most of you don’t. I’m everyone. I’m you, your sister, your daughter. I always say that if I’m thinking it or feeling it then the rest of the world is feeling it too. Not because I’m psychic, but because I’m the norm. Not special. I don’t stand out in a crowd. I’m a average older than middle age woman who has lived an unnoticeable life. I grew up in a upper middle class family. I’m white. I have light brown hair and green eyes. I’m short. I’m nothing more than anyone else in this world.

I was asked two weeks ago if I were to die today would I have any regrets. I thought about this for a while and said no. I believe that our life is arranged perfectly in order to accomplish the goals we have set prior to entering into this wild and crazy world we live in. We decide what lessons we need to learn to advance spiritually. Hopefully, during our time on this earth we don’t create new issues that will stump our growth so we can go on to gain the ultimate of entering into a totally spiritual existence somewhere other than here on this dense plain.

Today I learned something very important to me. Now that I’ve discovered this truth about myself it’s up to me to do something with it. I thought I had no regrets. I thoght of regrets as something that someone does to another. I forgot to think about regrets that I’d done to myself. Pain that I have caused myself. I know now, today, that it isn’t what others do to you that hurts the most deeply. I learned today that it’s the injuries that you put on yourself that stay ingrained in your soul throughout eternity.

I’m a painter. I paint pictures that express the emotion of who I am. That’s who I choice to be at 30. But I had chosen another destiny for myself when I was pure and young, filled with who I truly was. I was a singer. I say that so simply, but I need to say it again. I was a singer. I only heard music, felt music, dreamed music. I was music and my voice allowed me to express it.

I’m not going to tell you the story that lead to now, becasue only now is what matters. But at 30 I had a choice to make. A big one. I could choose to be a responsible Mother of a child with autistic tendencies or pursue being a singer. To all of you Mothers out there, I’m sure you know my choice. You could say, ‘what choice’? But this is the regret that gropes at my heart, brings tears to my eyes, reveals my regret. I just quit. I never sang again. I picked up a paint brush and said, “This is you now”. This is what you will be. This will allow you to be a responsible Mother and still allow for the creativity that you must express. And here I am.

Now for the lesson I know is at the base of my regret. I never thought I was good enough. I wasn’t pretty enough. I wasn’t tall enough. I wasn’t enough. I never believed that I could succeed to the level I dreamed of. Was the child my excuse to quit? I believe it was the challenge I put in front of me to learn what I was truly meant to learn.

Today I realized that I’ve don’t it again. I realized that I still don’t think I’m good enough, talented enough. I don’t stand out or I should say that I don’t think that my paintings stand out enough. All this time working, pushing myself, reaching, dreaming and there it is. No matter what I do, in my heart I don’t think I’m enough.

No one can succeed if they don’t know they are good enough. I wondered why other artists who’s work I really didn’t like, that wasn’t really good, that said nothing to me, that gave me no pleasure was being auctioned at Christies for millions of dollars. What did they have that I didn’t? What they have that I have never had is that they know they are enough. They know they are worth the success. They feel that they are enough.

Having the revelation is just the beginning. I have a lot of work in front of me now. I may not live long enough to resolve it, but at least now I know what it is. So through my tears of regret I can say that I want to be enough. I want to know this feeling of being enough. I want to own it. I want to heal my self image, self identity. I want to take the voice of a child and pour it onto the canvas of my life. I want to be enough.