Never Good Enough

Splitting manifested as my insatiable search for worthiness, trying to earn my mother’s approval and love.  The canned-food drives, the church newsletter, teaching swimming lessons, singing at church, pitching a no-hitter in softball, being in gifted class.

Nothing I did was good enough.

My hair was never the right cut or color. My thrift-store clothes weren’t girly. My feet were too big. My nose was too big. I was too skinny. I didn’t wear enough makeup. I was clumsy. I couldn’t cook. I spent too much time with my friends and not enough with my family.

Mom’s constant criticism continued well into my late twenties. Singing at Carnegie Hall, at Madison Square Garden, at The Paramount, finishing a dual major BA and an MFA at NYU, publishing plays, ghostwriting books, breaking into television, winning awards, signing with big agents, money. None of it meant a thing to my Mom.