What about the average ones?

You know...us.

In my world, to be average is to be a failure. That was how I was raised. I was taught that I was not put on this earth to be simple, average, or just to get by. I was raised to never stop chasing the top accomplishments and accolades. The expectation? A PhD, a top position at a top company, a news anchor on the Today Show, a best-selling author, a principal at a school, a superintendent, literally anything as long as it was the best or top position within whatever my chosen career was acceptable. As long as it was the best.

The pressure started early. My elementary school didn’t give out A’s, B’s, and C’s as grades, but rather E’s, V’s, S’s, and N’s. Excellent, Very Good, Satisfactory, or Needs Improvement. Satisfactory grades were not allowed in my household. A Very Good was still not enough. There was no such thing as trying my best. There was only room for being the best. You could never become satisfied with where you were and settle. If there is room to grow, a better position, or a greater achievement, you continue to work until you reach that achievement. Then, you do it all over again until reach the next one. You do not stop until you have reached the top, period. When you’ve reached the top, then you’re finally successful and worthy, but not a moment beforehand.

I was expected to be extraordinary. I was expected to be at the top of my class, on stage giving speeches, receiving full-ride scholarships to college through a PhD, and be on the fast track toward climbing the corporate ladder.

There was only one problem with this life plan: I was average.

I am average. I am averagely talented, averagely smart, and receive very average results no matter what I do or how much effort I give something. I am just…average. Even this article I’m writing is quite average. I don’t write in beautiful cadences, my work doesn’t draw a crowd, and nothing I do is out of the ordinary or all that profound. I’m just…average. (I do not say this for sympathy or to compliment fish. Stay with me here.) I was a hard-working, yet average student. I was someone who fiercely practiced her flute yet couldn’t get past average results as far as chair placement and being picked for solos and all-state bands were concerned. I was someone who loved the game of tennis more than anything in this world and committed my life to perfecting my game, yet I rarely won matches and yielded a very average junior ranking in comparison to my peers whom I trained with. I was never destined to be Serena Williams as much as I dreamt of the day I would win Wimbledon. I was never going to be Valedictorian, as my hours of highlighting key concepts in my textbooks and making flashcards for every quiz yielded a mere 3.4 GPA. I was never going to get that college scholarship since they all required exceptionality and all I had to offer was fair-to-middling. I was never going to win the National Speech Championship no matter how many hours I put into practicing my performances. I was just…average.

Most of us are just average.

Most of us are average, at least, by society’s definition.

Let’s look at the dictionary definition of the word ‘average’:

1. a) adj: being about midway between extremes

2. b) adj: nothing out of the ordinary

In essence, when used as an adjective, 'average' implies ordinariness. Therefore, let's examine the definition of 'ordinary':

1. adj: of a kind to be expected in the normal order of events

2. a) adj: of a common quality, rank, or ability

   b) adj: deficient in quality

It's intriguing to see the multitude of definitions that can exist for a single word. Within these two definitions of the word, ordinary, we find that to be ordinary can mean to do what is expected or normal, to have a common quality or ability, or to be deficient in quality. The first two definitions of ordinary do not hold the same, negative, worthless weight as the third definition. Yet, it is the third definition that runs our society. See, it was not just in my household that exceptionality was required. Exceptionality is what is required by society to be deemed worthy. If you are not exceptional at what you do, what you produce, and how you “contribute” to the greater economy, then you are nobody. You will be conditioned to believe that because you are ordinary, you are not enough.

However, considering those initial two definitions of 'ordinary,' it's possible that ordinariness embodies precisely the right amount of adequacy. It is common. It is the norm. It is to be a normal human. Ordinary.

We have confused our ordinaryness to mean deficiency, lack, and failure. Almost every single one of us believes that in some place in our lives, we are not doing enough, being enough, achieving enough, pleasing enough, and so on. No matter what we do or who we are, we look at our best efforts, our intentionality, our hearts, and our capabilities, and we immediately see lack rather than the abundance that is present.

We look in the mirror and instantly zero in on the physical features we believe we lack rather than seeing the beauty in the humanity of our bodies.

We look at our parenting and criticize ourselves for every other word we say, constantly second-guessing our God-given parental intuitions and every action we do out of love for our children. We lay our heads on our pillows telling ourselves that we didn’t play enough, hug enough, love enough, say yes or no enough, or that we yelled too much, got annoyed too much, or relied too much on screens. Rarely, if ever, do we lay our heads on our pillows and tell ourselves, “Well done today. Everything you were able to give was enough.”

We look at our lives and think, “I should be doing more. I should be accomplishing more. I should be in a different place right now. I can’t believe I have to start over. Why am I not further along? Why am I not making more money? Why haven’t I succeeded, yet?” We plague ourselves with guilt and shame for not being this so-called extraordinary version of ourselves because we have been conditioned to see our ordinary versions as failures rather than what is truly extraordinary. What is truly extraordinary is that we woke up that morning, chose to live another day, and gave that day the very best of what we had to offer. Each breath we draw is not merely an achievement, but also a marvel. However, we convince ourselves that unless we've saved the world or discovered a cure for cancer, we fall short of being sufficient.

Culturally, we hyper-fixate on what and who we believe to be established, illustrious, or iconic. We have our influencers and thought-leaders with hundreds of thousands, sometimes millions, of followers because they have found a way to embody what we deeply believe we are missing. What we are lacking. So, we follow their every move, convincing ourselves that we are receiving inspiration or motivation for our own lives, when in reality, we are feeding the vicious cycle of comparison and the not-enoughness that we are internally wrestling with. We follow the workout gurus with the bodies we wish we had. We follow the fashion gurus with the wardrobe we wish we owned and the interior designers with perfectly displayed, aesthetic homes. We adhere to the guidance of routine experts who claim that our success hinges on the flawless morning regimen, only to find ourselves feeling guilty when the demands of parenthood lead us to hit snooze after a challenging night with a frightened toddler. We emulate celebrities who, though undoubtedly deserving of recognition for their achievements, constitute a mere 0.0086% of the population. Despite this, we berate ourselves for not matching their levels of performance. Within our own non-celebrity circles, we viciously compete with one another, whether that be on the internet, at the office, or even within our families and friendship circles. This competition is usually unspoken. It shows up in sneaky, resentful, and envious behaviors. This tendency manifests when we fixate on our social media likes and followers, constantly comparing our metrics to those whom we perceive as our rivals. It becomes evident in our interactions with those closest to us, as we inadvertently project our insecurities and unresolved traumas onto them.

All of this stems from the societal narrative ingrained for generations, equating ordinariness or averageness with failure. Being average is portrayed as inadequacy, insufficiency, and a lack of worth. Not being enough. And, boy, is that our worst fear as humans — that we are not enough. One of our greatest human needs is to inherently know that we are enough without ever needing to prove it. Yet, our modern, more specifically, American, society has nearly every human that lives within it questioning our enoughness daily. That previous sentence doesn’t properly articulate just how much we are hurting as a society because unworthiness has become our norm.

Look around — it’s everywhere. Not a day goes by when I don’t see someone on social media sharing their battle with enoughness. I often see women who are in eating disorder recovery share their stories of battling with worthlessness since childhood. I see people who are burned out from climbing the corporate ladder and feeling the need to also have a side hustle finally tap out and say, “I’ve always felt I had to do more to be enough.” Every day I witness mothers berate themselves up for not being enough for their kids. I am currently writing this article after a mini why-am-I-not-enough meltdown. Perhaps you’ve been fighting a silent worthiness battle, too.

Your ordinary, average humanity is not deficient. Normal, ordinary lives, bodies, minds, abilities, houses, wardrobes, careers, etc., are not failures. They are simply…human. Being human is to be both the ordinary and the extraordinary at the same time. At the core of humanity, we are all the same. We have hearts that beat, lungs that breathe, and eyes that cry tears. We cackle hearty laughs and we weep when our hearts ache. We have dishes to wash, mouths to feed, and beds to make. We have bills to pay, bodies that need clothing, and hair that gets dirty. Every single one of us has human needs and we all have the right to have those needs filled.

And, in the same, mundane, and ordinaryness of our humanity is where we are the most extraordinary. It is in our extraordinariness that we are lending the shirts off our backs to our neighbors, telling that woman in Target that she is working that skirt, and showing up to our jobs after a sob sesh during the commute. It is in our extraordinariness that we are showing up for ourselves on our Pilates mat, wiping the umpteenth butt after changing the umpteenth diaper, and taking that deep breath to regulate our nervous systems when we want to scream. It is in our extraordinariness that we are creating the masterpiece of our lives, complete with that newfound hobby that you didn’t know you were skilled in and your knack for keeping houseplants alive.

We are the average ones.

We’re normal humans doing what normal humans do.

It just so happens that every normal, ordinary thing we do is unequivocally extraordinary.

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If you struggle with self-worth or enoughness, my book, We’ll All Be Free, is for you. In the pages, I take you on a journey of rediscovering your worth by helping you uncover how society has led to to believe you are not enough in the first place. You will turn the final page feeling seen, worthy, and liberated.

Here’s to freedom.