Ever since the first moments of being teased in elementary school, we’ve all wrestled with covering up the things about us that others could easily see.

This is not something orchestrated, but an invisible and often wounding transition: from knowing only the safety of ourselves to facing the judgments of the world.

The tragedy is how rarely we are reminded that we are kind, beautiful, and worthy—how seldom we are told we need not hide.

Instead, we come to believe that growing up means covering who we are.

There’s nothing more false. Somewhere, we learned to think that parts of us had to be hidden.

The moment we buy into that, even for a little while, the weight of not-enoughness presses in.

There’s nothing you need to prove—you are enough as you are.

“You alone are enough. You have nothing to prove to anybody.” ~Maya Angelou

Ever since I was young, I wanted to be an author.

I pictured my face on the jacket of a book, my name in bold letters, my stories turned into films, and myself sitting across from talk-show hosts, finally meeting the authors I had always admired. I dreamed of being someone who stood out—seen, respected, and admired.

I wanted my life to carry the weight of being special.

Beyond the dream of being published, I fell in love with the craft of writing itself—the way it could bridge the distance between souls and create connection through the written word.

Beginning in seventh grade, I poured my heart into every piece of writing I shared with my parents, teachers, and classmates. Though I’d receive a few kind words, they were always overshadowed by an endless stream of criticism about what was wrong or how I should have done it better. Somewhere within me, I knew the lessons in critique were meant to shape me, to help me grow. Yet the constant tide of negativity, especially from my parents, slowly eroded my spirit, sending me back to my room in tears, certain I was no good. I carried a quiet belief that I wasn’t good enough. What I hadn’t recognized yet was that the fear of others judging me was fueled by the relentless judgment I aimed at myself. Leaving high school, I already sensed that if I chose the life of an author, judgment would never leave my side. It would be there in the rejections, in the manuscripts agents set aside, in the rooms where real writers were admired. And no matter how much I tried, other people’s opinions would always weigh heavily on me.

With no one supporting me, I had to release the dream of who I thought I was—the version of myself I loved and wanted to become—and instead accept who I truly was at 17. The truth is, judgment will always be with us.

Someone, somewhere, will try to tell you you’re not smart enough, not attractive enough, not accomplished enough. Their thoughts are beyond your control—and that’s okay.

Because the only thing that truly matters is your own belief in yourself, when you hold onto that, the rest no longer defines you. I learned I cannot change others, only my response to them. So now, I let criticism pass through me like wind, never holding on. But when love, encouragement, or kindness is offered, I receive it deeply and allow it to lift me higher.

The wonder of self-love lies in the moment you realize you are already whole, already enough.

From there, the weight of negativity begins to fade, replaced by growing light and positivity.

In its place comes a deep sense of peace, security, and contentment—the natural rewards of embracing yourself as you are.

Let your voice rise to the skies, carrying the truth for the world to hear: I am good enough.

Because you truly are enough.

Give yourself the grace to be you—to accept, believe in, and love the person you already are.

You don’t need the world’s permission. The moment you embrace yourself, you open the door to the life you’ve always imagined. This truth found me later in life, reminding me it’s never too late. My heart will always be grateful for that gift.

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