The sea of not enough is widening and I let it. After decades of fighting continental drift and rising waters, my faith has turned from clenched teeth to deep breaths. I am tired. I am tired to the bone. It took a long time to get permission to admit that, to even ask, but now I am here. I practice acceptance and forgiveness. We are who we are at this moment, and that is the only truth. Beyond that nobody knows and I don’t either. My new mantra is not mine. Not mine, not mine, not mine. I sound like a reverse animated seagull. And now I am back looking at the eroding coastline. The siren cannot tear herself away from the calling of the cliffs. Acceptance and forgiveness. Not mine, not mine, not mine. Behind me are the open fields, a vast space of inward and other. There is room to be fulfilled. All I have to do is shift my focus and only not mine is holding me back. Not mine is sticky, though. So sticky that I have to put down one hand to peel the other one off. Not mine, not mine, not mine. It hurts which is how I am used to feeling it. No pain, no gain is what they say but even if they have the loudest voice it is not mine. Not mine, not mine, not mine. I have already gained what I could from the pain. The law of returns has diminished and dissipated. Acceptance and forgiveness are forward, pulling me inward. I accept that I cannot help. I forgive that I cannot help it. I accept that I did the best I could. I forgive that it was not enough. I accept that not enough is beyond my control. I forgive that I thought it was. The sea of not enough is widening.