Good Enough Is Not Giving Up

For much of my life, anything unfinished felt like failure.

If I swept the kitchen but didn’t mop it, I focused on what I hadn’t done. If the stove wasn’t completely clean, the house felt dirty. If I couldn’t solve every problem for my children, I wondered whether I was doing enough as their mother.

Lately, I’ve been asking myself a different question:

What if good enough isn’t giving up?

There are so many things demanding my attention these days that I can move from one unfinished project to another without ever feeling as if I have actually accomplished anything

Take Capri, my daughter’s beautiful little French bulldog. She is incredibly sweet, but she sometimes has accidents in the house—especially in my daughter’s room.

I recently went through an entire process trying to clean the carpet and mattress. I used enzyme cleaner. Then vinegar and baking soda. I kept wet towels over the treated areas. I tried everything I could think of to remove the odor and stains.

There was also an enormous coffee stain on the mattress. I didn’t have hydrogen peroxide, which apparently would have helped, so I worked with what I had.

Is everything perfectly clean now?

No.

Is it considerably better than it was?

Yes.

At the same time, I have been working on my KinThrive Coaching website, trying to take care of an overgrown yard, preparing for a trip to Savannah, managing the house, caring for Capri, and keeping up with all the emotional and practical pieces of my life.

I have had to accept something that has never come easily to me:

I do not have the ability—or the capacity—to make everything perfect.

Our dishwasher doesn’t always work correctly. Our washing machine leaks because of a bad seal. Our refrigerator drips water because of another bad seal.

The truth is that the appliances still work. They are not perfect, and we don’t currently have the money to repair or replace them, but they are usable.

For right now, they are good enough.

As a parent who has lived with chronic stress and fear over my children, I have often felt responsible for anticipating every problem, finding every answer, and preventing every possible crisis.

That kind of vigilance can make “good enough” feel dangerous.

What if I overlook something important?

What if someone needs more from me?

What if stopping means I’m giving up?

But I am beginning to understand that choosing what is safe, usable, and sufficient is not giving up. Sometimes it is self-regulation. Sometimes it is sound decision-making. Sometimes it is the healthiest choice available to me.

If I sweep the kitchen but don’t mop it, the floor is still better than it was.

If I treat the carpet and it becomes clean-ish instead of perfect, Capri and my daughter still have a less smelly and more comfortable place to be.

If I make small progress on my website instead of completing the entire thing at once, KinThrive is still moving forward.

I practiced this when I prepared to drive back to Savannah for a week and a half. I was returning to the same house where I had previously cared for Jake and the two cats, and this time I was bringing Capri so I could support my daughter while I was away.

Normally, preparing for a trip would mean making a list, starting another list, crossing things off, worrying that I had forgotten something, and then creating one more list.

This time, I let ChatGPT help me keep track of what I needed. I used the tools available to me instead of relying on my already-overloaded brain to remember everything.

The car wasn’t clean when I left.

Everything at home wasn’t finished.

But I packed what I needed. Capri traveled well. We arrived safely. Nothing essential was forgotten.

That was good enough.

Good enough is taking a break when my body tells me I need one.

Good enough is making sure the dogs get into the backyard and are cared for, even if we don’t take the perfect walk.

Good enough is arriving safely in a car that could use a thorough cleaning.

Good enough is allowing the house to be clean-ish while I focus on what is most important.

Good enough can also mean holding a boundary with my daughter and saying, “I’m not okay with being spoken to that way.”

I can be activated. She can feel unheard. The conversation can be imperfect.

I can still remind both of us that not doing exactly what someone wants does not mean I am not listening.

A boundary does not have to be delivered perfectly to be valid.

Repair does not require perfection either.

Last week, I wrote about how slow movement is still movement. I think this is the next piece of that lesson.

If I am still making small movements, caring for what matters most, and making choices based on safety, capacity, and reality, then what I am doing may already be enough.

Not forever.

Not because nothing else matters.

But enough for today.

I am not perfect. Not even close.

And I am still moving forward.

So I would love to know:

What would “good enough” look like for you today?

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