When Nothing Feels Good Enough: Unravelling the Wound of Unworthiness

There’s a belief I’ve carried for as long as I can remember, nothing I do is good enough.

Sometimes it hums in the background, quietly shaping my decisions. Other times, it roars to the surface, fuelling overthinking, overdoing, and the constant, exhausting need to get it right.

Lost in the weight of self-doubt - breathe, soften and rewrite the story.

It shows up in small ways, rewriting a message three times before sending it. And in bigger ways, fear of making the "wrong" choice, anxiety around disappointing someone, bracing myself for judgment before it even comes.

At the heart of it is an old, familiar dread: What if they tell me I got it wrong? What if I let them down?

I’ve done enough shadow work and conscious breathwork to trace this fear back to its roots. Back to the scene of the crime.

It’s a childhood memory, seemingly small but deeply formative.

My grandmother, in the kitchen, cooking dinner. One of us kids would be sent to the pantry to fetch four or five potatoes. A simple task, yet we all dreaded it. Because no matter how carefully we chose, examining each one, trying to predict what she wanted, we’d get it wrong.

But it wasn’t just a sigh of disappointment we feared. It was the sharp edge of her frustration, the suppressed anger simmering beneath her words.

More than just potatoes - When childhood lessons shape the way we see ourselves.

"Are you stupid? An idiot? You can’t even pick up potatoes properly."

Some days, the worst of it, if she was already in a bad mood, we knew what was coming. A slap, a shove, a punishment for wasting her time. And then, the final sting: “I’ll do it myself. You’re useless.”

I learned something in those moments. Not just about potatoes, but about myself.

I learned that no matter how much I tried to get it right, I would get it wrong. That trying my best wasn’t enough. That making a mistake didn’t just bring correction, it brought shame, anger, sometimes pain.

This is how wounds form.

The scene of the crime is that first moment of emotional impact, the one that embeds itself in your body, shaping the way you move through the world. As children, we don’t yet have the reasoning to separate someone else’s pain from our own worth. We don’t see their wounds. We only feel the impact of them.

So, we make it mean something about us.

For me, I made it mean: I am not good enough. No matter how hard I try, I will disappoint someone.

And when you believe that deeply enough, life finds ways to reinforce it.

This belief followed me. Into school, into work, into relationships. It made me second-guess myself, work twice as hard to prove my worth, anticipate rejection before it even happened. And every time something went slightly wrong, that old voice would whisper: See? I told you so. You failed again.

At the edge, between letting go and moving forward.

But here’s the thing, beliefs are not truths.

They are stories we’ve told ourselves for so long that they feel real. But they are not who we are.

I know this now. I know my grandmother was also shaped by her own pain, by her own wounds, by the way she was raised. She had to grow up fast, and therefore, so did we. I loved her. And it took a shit ton of therapy to work through both the trauma and the love.

But healing isn’t about excusing what happened. It’s about understanding how it shaped us, so we can choose something different.

I refuse to live my life believing I am not good enough.

So, I meet these thoughts head-on.

When the fear creeps in, when I feel myself bracing for criticism, I pause. I breathe. And I ask myself:

✨ What actually happened? 

✨ What am I feeling in my body? 

✨ What did I want to feel in this moment? 

✨ How is fear shaping my response right now?

Instead of reacting from an old wound, I take a breath. I anchor into truth.

It’s not an instant fix. It’s a skill. And like all skills, it takes practice, patience, and a willingness to stumble. Because I do stumble. There are moments when fear has the upper hand, when I miscommunicate, judge too quickly, or forget to breathe.

And that’s okay.

This is the work, to witness ourselves in these moments, to see how we respond to discomfort, to bring awareness instead of autopilot reactions.

A limiting belief only has as much power as we give it.

Its lifespan shortens the moment we choose to face it, to question it, to breathe through it.

And so, I choose to rewrite the story.

I am not here to be perfect. 

I am here to be whole. 

And that, in itself, is enough.

 If this story resonates with you, take a moment to pause, breathe, and notice where the ‘not good enough’ wound shows up in your life. Awareness is the first step to breaking the cycle.

If you’re ready to explore this deeper through conscious breathwork and self-inquiry, I invite you to work with me. Let’s unravel the old stories and create space for something new.

✨ Book a session: www.in-exhalebreathe.com (https://www.in-exhalebreathe.com/)

✨ Connect with me: In-Exhalebreathwork@gmail.com