My mind has been waking me up
at 3:00 in the morning just to
whisper lovingly that
I am not enough.

She/I/It has been showing me
all the lovely art that I've begun
that has ended up orphaned in dead
alleys all along the way.

Everyday, so many times in an hour
my mind reminds of the
tasks undone, the not ok, the
loose ends, perilous and meaningful.

I have been steadily rebuking this mind,
of mine, with the real, with the food,
with the phone, with the Old Navy.

I do a little work and say,
See, it will pass, we will not be in
trouble.

But we are in trouble, me and my mind,
here at the hearth, the home that we've found,
the babies sleeping, all the riches tucked in,
they dreaming cleaner dreams than I have
in a very long time.

My mind has stopped tonight, at this 3 a.m. waking,
at this awakening to simply and finally
get to really say what it has been saying
for maybe this whole life --
That I am not enough,

And it is not a phrase to purge of myself in therapy,
a sympathetic and disbelieving eye
allowing that feeling passage.

It is a stone to hold.
It is true. And it is
the only place to begin.