I Want to Be and Feel Like I'm Good Enough, But Don't Always Know How

With great ease, I offer support and reassurance and attempt to lift up others. But I am somehow unable or unwilling to do that for myself.

(Image/Singing Machine)

I display and deal with some neuroses around self-worth.

It holds me back professionally. It probably holds me back in social and romantic relationships as well.

Right around Thanksgiving, my new friend Gbemi, a Gottman-certified therapist and relationship coach who I now adore and hope I’m friends with forever shared on X (formerly Twitter) a version of the now semi-famous “dishes” article which The Times in London published prior to the release of my book This is How Your Marriage Ends.

Gbemi and I had not met or spoke to one another at the time of her sharing this. We just met for the first time a couple of days ago.

That article, originally titled She Divorced Me Because I Left Dishes by the Sink had already been read 25-30 million times over the years. This new version on X was read 19 million times in about 72 hours.

Which is a lot of attention, and if you’re a thoughtful and skilled internet marketer, you can capitalize on that type of virality.

But I was busy hosting family and friends at my house for Thanksgiving while this was happening, and barely gave it a thought. People who support my work and have a vested interest in growing my audience and in my long-term financial success were floored that I waited a week to tell them about this.

“MATT WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

*shrugs* “About not overcooking the turkey.”

“MATT 19 MILLION EFFING PEOPLE – WE CAN WORK WITH THAT KIND OF VISIBILITY. WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?”

*shrugs* “It never even occurred to me. Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“MATT DO YOU EVEN ACTUALLY WANT TO SUCCEED?”

That’s when I acknowledged to my editor who I have a friendly and business relationship with that maybe I do have some mental and emotional blocks around the idea of success.

I’ve been asked before: “Hey Matt! Why aren’t you giving TED talks? Why haven’t you sold millions of books?”

I guess I assume it’s because I’m not good enough, and there are simply not enough people who want to read the book or pay attention to anything I have to say. That doesn’t even seem weird to me. I promise I don’t think I’m that interesting. Just look at my dead-ass social media feeds if you’re questioning my attention-whore quotient.

She—my editor friend—didn’t like this answer. She was also not enthused when I promised to communicate these little viral opportunities in the future if they ever come up again. It bothered her that I was more interested in not disappointing her than I was interested in trying to expand the audience from the 19 million new people encountering me and my work for the first time.

She immediately bought me a book on codependency (Codependent No More by Melody Beattie) and told me to work on my shit, therapy-style.

But because I didn’t sell nearly enough books and don’t have a deep well of resources, and need to buy a car soon for my 16-year-old son, what I think I’m going to do instead is write about it here and see how that works out for me.

Turns Out, ‘Neurosis’ is Just Another Name for Anxiety

You can pretty much use ‘neurosis’ and ‘anxiety’ interchangeably, it turns out. I’ve been self-identifying as “neurotic” for years in a quasi-humorous, self-deprecating way, but it turns out to be an on-the-nose accurate descriptor for me.

A neurosis is defined as “a mental condition that is not caused by organic disease, involving symptoms of stress (depression, anxiety, obsessive behavior, hypochondria) but not a radical loss of touch with reality.”

Basically, you can trust me not to do anything we might both agree is “crazy,” but you can’t trust me to not be irrationally afraid of what you think of me, and you can’t trust me to derive a healthy amount of personal satisfaction from my accomplishments, or from the positive feedback of others.

I’ve always gotten along easily with other people. I’m not at all afraid or anxious about meeting new people, or attending social functions. I’m not shy in the traditional sense of the word.

But if you ask me to address the entire room, I’m back in 4^th grade, where I was never afraid to be called on from my desk to answer a question, but was semi-terrified of walking to the front of the room and being on display while giving a presentation or a book report.

Here’s a fun story to contextualize this condition of mine:

When I was a freshman in college, still in the school of business because I didn’t yet have a life direction, I was enrolled in an Intro to Computing class. It was neither difficult nor intellectually stimulating.

The curriculum was, I shit you not: Learn Microsoft Word, learn Microsoft Excel, and learn Microsoft PowerPoint.

Literally, that was the class.

But here’s the rub: At the end of the semester, when we got to the PowerPoint part, we would all be required to make a PowerPoint presentation, and then stand in front of the entire lecture hall of 100+ others, and give a presentation.

No amount of marijuana could quell the anxiety.

So once we got to the PowerPoint part of the course, I simply stopped attending class. Maybe it will magically go away!

The professor failed me.

I was historically a pretty good student. Not a genius, certainly, but not mortifying to me or my parents. Mostly A’s. Sometimes B’s.

So this F grade was a new thing for me. And that’s when I learned from one of the university counselor people who helped you schedule classes for the following semester that there’s this magical setup at universities where they do grade replacements.

If you retake the same course, and you get a better grade, the F grade will disappear entirely and be replaced by the new grade! Oh, happy day!

So I retook the class the second semester of my freshman year in hopes of dramatically improving my GPA with the new A grade I would surely receive to replace the F. It’s just Word, Excel, and PowerPoint, lol!!!

When we got to the PowerPoint presentation part of the course, I stopped going to class again, and got another F to replace my first F. True story.

I Don’t Know What’s Wrong with Me and I’m Trying to Sort it Out

I’m being serious right now. I really don’t know. ADHD is a factor, certainly. I’m smart enough to know that my ideas around relationships have merit. Hundreds, if not thousands, of incredibly bright and accomplished people over the years have praised my work and have seemed to demonstrate a likeness for me personally, and hundreds, if not thousands more actually give me money to “coach” them.

I got along with the vast majority of kids back in school. I was comfortable and successful in the majority of social situations throughout life. I was, I think, appropriately loved, accepted, and cared for by parents and extended family growing up.

“Why are you writing about this, Matt?”

Because this is the type of self-awareness work and individual work people should be doing in their relationships. We all have our histories, baggage, and idiosyncrasies. And that stuff has a maybe-difficult-to-quantify impact on the people we spend the most time with, such as our relationship partners, children, best friends, co-workers, etc.

Self-care, self-love, self-respect—these are all critical, impactful factors in how well and healthily we navigate our most important personal relationships. Two healthy individuals are what make one, singular, beautiful, healthy union.

And if I want to participate effectively in that process, and if I’m interested in self-actualization, and reaching the summit of the human-needs pyramid one day, I need to find a way to derive self-worth and satisfaction, and a sense of purpose, meaning, accomplishment, etc.—not from external validation (book sales, positive feedback, media interviews, a filled-up coaching calendar)—but from whatever chain of events must happen for me to finally arrive at: I’m enough. I’m proud of what I’ve done. I’m worthy of existing and not feeling ashamed or bad about it.

I think I was there throughout most of my younger years with the caveat that I was pretty self-centered and occasionally inconsiderate of others.

I think maybe divorce and the collapse of my life and loss of everything I once held dear, and the crippling shame, embarrassment, and sense of failure I experienced back then may have gotten this neurotic party started. But that was nearly 12 years ago now.

What, I wonder, is holding me back still?

Why do I seem so subconsciously concerned with what people think of me? Why do I give a shit? Why am I afraid of not measuring up?

For anyone out there who battles these same thoughts, feelings, and insecurities, I hope you’ll ask yourself those same questions. I hope you’ll reach out to me if you don’t have anyone else to talk to about it.

I don’t want to be afraid to be seen. I don’t want to stay afraid of giving that PowerPoint presentation. I don’t want a third F.

And whenever I get past whatever these hangups are, there’s a better, more fulfilling life, and more beautiful relationships on the other side of this.

I think maybe I need to move toward that with more transparency and intentionality.

Maybe you’ll join me.

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Matthew Fray is the author of “This is How Your Marriage Ends: A Hopeful Approach to Saving Relationships”, a relationship coach, and formerly the blogger at Must Be This Tall To Ride.

P.S. - I know these things can present really small to some of you in your busy lives and marriages/partnerships. But that’s exactly why developing mindfulness and communication habits around these domestic scenarios is so critical to maintaining peaceful, loving relationships. If you have trust erosion, and/or pain points and frustrations around things like this at home, consider working with me as your relationship coach to develop these skills and habits. This stuff matters. Book your next appointment here. - MF