For me, there were some hard truths to confront about finding a job.

Enough is an exclamation used to indicate a lack of enjoyment of a situation or behavior. We say “Enough” but we really mean, “that’s too much- I can’t possibly handle any more of this.” Enough is just reaching a passing mark, and giving up. Enough is the amount of water needed to quench our thirst through the required mile, but not a sufficient amount of keep us from becoming parched if we feel the pull to challenge ourselves to go just a bit further than intended.

I’m turning 28 on Friday. As I entered my 27th year, I tried to say “enough” to appease a challenge I’d been trying to free myself from for several years. As soon as I took on this mentality I felt all of my defenses shutting down, though I was told to just stay strong and that I’d find that I had “Enough” strength to get myself through. And I did. Just enough that I spent a whole year treading water with just enough breath to keep from making a scene calling for help.

Just enough will never be good enough. Enough is a mistake we make, not expecting God or the universe to provide. Not thinking people will come through. Not thinking that we can thrive instead of merely get through. If all we want is to have enough, then we have already given up.

Life in LA can be exciting in all the worst ways: earthquakes, floods, fires; but it also gets too soothing at times. The ocean breeze rustling the palm trees, fog rolling in an out, perfect weather every day, it can lull you. Maybe that’s the problem: too much of a good thing.

The older I get, the less I know.

During these trying economic times, a young person’s job options are limited. People are studying subjects that interest them in school and then being unable to find employment in the areas they studied in, or are having to put their passions aside and receive an education in a field that’s actually hiring.

We indecisive choisters are going to have to make some choices.

“I’m fine,” I told her. And I was.

Tina nodded her approval and everyone moved on. I cried less. And no one even needed to ask if I was okay, but if they did, I knew the correct answer.

Gradually, though, I made it my mantra- calling on those two little words as a default- particularly when they weren’t true.

They led me through several situations, where I gritted my teeth and told no anything other than “I’m fine.”

Even in my late twenties I catch myself falling back on what I know and expecting to be warded off at the slightest hint of vulnerability. “I’m fine,” I say, no matter what is really going on.

I can’t help but look back and see how I would have been spared from several negative ongoing situations if I hadn’t felt it necessary to be “fine” in the public eye. I’d go into it, but I also prefer not to be seen as bitter as well.

If it’s true you should write what you know, I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.  It occurred to me that I perhaps don’t understand as much about myself as I’d assumed.  Exhibit A: …