Like every other day, I dreamed about Gem Twist, a grey, and Big Ben, a chestnut, two champion horses -- jumpers -- whose photos were forever frozen in my mind. I thought that if I imagined hard enough, they both may appear in my room. How I wished to be their riders. How I longed for the skill, the opportunities, the prestige, and the winnings. The admiration, yes. I longed for that attention so much that it literally burned inside of me.
Every single day, I practiced. Through blisters, the scorch of sun, the hail, the storms, the clear days, the setbacks, the ribbons, the falls, the back pain, the work, work, work, I practiced. I skipped school to practice. I was at the barn on Christmas.
There was not one day in my childhood that I didn't think about this dream. I don't think there were even many moments when I didn't think about it. It was always inside me, lurking there, pushing me to keep going, get better, and compete. More, more, more.
Dreams are wonderful. Horses are wonderful. And so were all of my friends at the barns -- both human and animal. Ah, and all of the cats and dogs and snakes and mice, everything. Wonderful. Spider webs, dust, hay, shavings -- I loved it all.
But...there was also not one day in my childhood that I felt like this: good enough. I'd be champion at a show and then, I was focused on the next show. I'd have a bad show, and I'd want to bury myself. I'd achieve a new goal, and I couldn't enjoy it long enough to celebrate the moment. Nothing filled me. No ribbon, no applause.
I never felt good enough.
And as I write to you right now, I'm realizing that even if I were riding Gem Twist, and I was champion in all of the world, I am sure there still would have been that gnawing feeling of "not good enough."
That moment...sitting on my bed, not even the comforter was good enough. Inside, I was a terrified little girl who felt unloved, and my whole world was dark. I used winning or losing at shows to balance my emotions.
Some years later, I got sober, and I began to learn about all of this. But I still remember that hole in my heart as if it were yesterday. And sure, it comes back sometimes.
But I know that I am good enough. I always was. I didn't need ribbons or a fancy horse. I missed out on many beautiful moments because of my obsession with wanting more.
I am good enough right now.
Of course, now I have dreams that involve my books. I'd love to see them become movies. I'd love to sell millions of copies and touch the hearts of folks all around the world. But I have to be careful not to see it as the culmination of my life's worth. Because who I am is what fills me, not the idea of more, more, more.
Indeed, it's important to take action to improve one's life, but there is a balance here. And so, I promote some, I continue to write, I hope and wish, sure, but in this moment, I ask myself, "Did I make someone laugh today? Where could I have done better? Did I feel good in my heart today? Did I spread this goodness? Did I show folks love? And right now, how do I feel in relation to my character?"
I feel good about it. I feel proud of my five authentic books. I feel good about creating songs in churches. I feel good about cracking folks up in the stores today. I feel good about getting food to a family that doesn't have a car. I feel good about this essay.
This is the stuff that radiates outward -- laughter, love, creativity, joy, and connection, the daily practice of touching others' souls. Today, I met a sweet Doberman. How random and how beautiful. We shared a divine moment.
I have come a long way from that seventeen-year-old girl who was so desperately alone and trying to fill that never-ending hole inside. Nothing would have sufficed.
So, after thinking over my day, I shot out a few emails about giving talks and having book signings. And I messed around on social media. But that wasn't the focus of my day. What is the focus of my day?
You.
Love to you,
C.A. MacConnell

















