Dear fear of not being good enough,

I can’t believe I let you control my life for so long. You loomed over every accomplishment, every goal, every dream. You dampened the words of affirmation I so desperately longed for. I trusted my gut, only to be deceived again and again. I allowed you to tell me I was a failure before I even tried. And I believed you. You were my comfort, my safe space—the enemy I knew. Nothing and no one hurt me more than you.

I couldn’t imagine a future without you. A world without your grip felt incomprehensible. The mere possibility of happiness crippled me, because how could I—broken me—exist there? Clear skies begged to be filled with turmoil and strife. The quiet was deafening, the peace foreboding.

The walls you built around yourself were tough. But not tough enough to bear the weight of the world without cracking. Broken. Splintered. Space. Space for thoughts like, “But what if you were?” to seep in, to take root. And as those thoughts grew, they shrunk the space you occupied until you were exposed. You could no longer hide.

I still remember the day I saw the blindfold over my eyes, my hands resting across my chest. The moment I realized: What if it was me all along? What if my fear of not being good enough was the very thing making me not good enough? Because if I believe I’m not good enough, then I’m not. That blindfold—tied tightly by my own hands—kept me from seeing the good. The good that I am. The good I possess. The good I can be and do.

I still resist the truth. I still search for evidence around me—to confirm or deny your whispers. But then I remind myself: I hold the power. I can untie the blindfold at any time.

I didn’t think I deserved it. A life without you. But I do.
I really do.

Even now, I see the places where the blindfold still tempts me. A comfort. A temporary relief. But courage—true courage—is feeling the adrenaline rush into my gut, spread to my chest, and rise to my crown. It’s choosing to take the step anyway. To trust that the prize of freedom, the trophy of self-conquest, is worth far more than the false security you offer.

So I’m letting you go. Slowly, steadily. I’m stepping into the life I deserve.

Sincerely,
Someone who no longer needs you.

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