It’s July.
My flowers are tall and tangled, and the days are gloriously long. It’s the month I crave when winter locks me up and strips my world of color.
But something’s been contaminating my joy.
I’ve been rattled by enoughness.
In everything that happens or doesn’t happen, the same question pesters me like a bully: Is this where/who I wanted to be, come July?
Am I doing enough? Am I feeling well enough? Am I happy enough?
If there’s anything that prioritizing my wellness has made me better at, it’s being attuned to my energy and emotions. Where do I feel tension? What triggered it? What would make it go away?
When I dig deeper, I seem to be stuck, waiting for external solutions to my inner peace. Waiting for this pain wave to recede, for my doctor to call with test results, for lost parcels to magically resurface, for email replies, for our surrogate’s pregnancy to begin, for my value to be recognized, for the plant I accidentally overwatered to forgive me, for late payments to finally be deposited, for that acceptance letter that kickstarts a writer’s career…
But none of these are happening fast enough and July is whizzing on.
I could be doing more while I wait, couldn’t I? I could be writing faster. I could be posting more and pitching more. I could book a trip to one of the thirty beaches I’ve saved on Instagram for future reference. I could be using this slower time in my businesses to update my websites, to find new contracts, to take a real-estate photography course so I feel less like an imposter every time I get hired for an architecture shoot. I could eat less gluten and swim even more and try harder to help my healing. Didn’t I weigh less last summer? Wasn’t I in a better mood?
This is the July I waited all winter for. Am I making the best choices? Am I Julying right?
But what if this downswing is just my way of recalibrating my nervous system? Maybe some smart part of me has silently figured out that constant chasing chips away at being. I’ve been putting myself out there in ways that make me feel tremendously vulnerable—it shouldn’t be surprising that it takes time to recharge.
It’s tempting to believe that breakthroughs come when we push hardest, and that if we let up on the pushing, we’ll be swallowed whole. But maybe the surest road to clarity is contentment.
Maybe I’m enough right now.
I’m enough in the water, watching my legs keep me afloat. I’m enough in my garden, in my kitchen, around my parents’ table. I’m enough when I stop working at noon, not only when I don’t feel well, but to treat myself when I actually do. I’m enough when I take a walk but leave my phone at home to remind myself of who I used to be without it. I’m enough when I watch the sunset without the urge to share it in a Reel, when I write in my journal instead of toiling on a publishable essay.
I don’t need to wait until the waiting is done. I can gift myself that peace now, while everything is still maddeningly up in the air. I can wait without being stuck. I can feel enough without being told I am.
It’s already only July.
HOW ARE YOU ENOUGH?
As with all my letters, I’d love a letter back from you.
What makes you feel like you’re (not) enough? How are you finding peace this July? Your answer to this prompt can be in words, in a drawing, audio, video—whatever comes naturally to you. Send me your reflection (max. 150 words) by email at thealbajournals@gmail.com and/or share it on social media with the mention #albajournals @alba.a.new.dawn in your caption so I don’t miss it! I’ll share / repost, with your permission and credit, of course.