One of the most tender truths I witness again and again in the women I coach is this:
so many of us carry a quiet, persistent feeling of not being enough.
It shows up in different ways—overthinking, perfectionism, comparison, apologising for taking up space, or constantly raising the bar just a little higher. But the underlying message stays the same:
“Once I become enough… then I’ll deserve my own love.”
We convince ourselves that the solution is to fill an invisible gap inside us—accomplish more, heal more, learn more, achieve some internal minimum score. We don’t demand perfection (we’re too “reasonable” for that), but we do believe we must at least reach this threshold of “enough-ness” to be worthy.
The tragedy is that this threshold keeps moving.
But here’s what I want every woman I work with to know, deeply and unshakeably:
You are already enough. Not because of what you do, but because of who you are.
I am always struck by the spark I see in the women who sit with me—women who doubt their worth and yet carry the most incredible resilience, intuition, emotional intelligence, and depth. They are far more than “enough” in my eyes. They are extraordinary.
And recently, something Marisa Peer said put all of this into a simple, beautiful perspective.
She spoke about the feeling of not being enough and used a powerful analogy:
Imagine a little girl who runs up to you full of excitement.
She wants to show you her cartwheel.
She throws herself into it with delight—legs not quite straight, landing a little wobbly, but bursting with pride. You look at her and you’re filled with love. Not because the cartwheel is perfect—it isn’t.
But because she is beautiful. Brave. Joyful. Trying. Proud. Unfiltered. Herself.
You don’t love her performance.
You love her.
And suddenly it becomes so clear:
This is how we should look at ourselves.
With softness.
With affection.
With appreciation for the courage it takes to try, to fall, to rise, to be human.
We don’t stand in front of that little girl and say,
“Well, your cartwheel isn’t quite good enough yet. Come back when you meet the minimum standard.”
We love her exactly as she is—imperfect, radiant, growing.
Imagine if we offered that same unconditional love to ourselves.
Imagine recognising the little girl inside us who is doing her best, learning, trying, hoping for approval, wanting to be seen.
Imagine saying to her:
“You don’t need to earn my love.
You already have it.
You are imperfectly, beautifully, completely enough.”
This is the heart of transformation—
not becoming “better,”
but remembering who we already are.