Today we share the last of our writers’ introductions. Today we share the story of our lovely Alexandra.


Today was the second day of school for my three children. My first two were already dropped off for the day, and I only had my youngest left with me in the car. I like to joke with him that I save “the best for last.”

We were smiling at this corny joke as I pulled up to an open parking spot, where another mom ready for drop off had also just arrived. I stepped out of my car and walked around to open the van door for my son. There was a little boy getting out of the car in front of us at the same time.

“Hi, Auggie!” a friendly little voice shouted and waved to us. “Hi!” my son greeted back. I shouted out to the mom, “What a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” She looked up briefly, and gave me a tight lipped smile, but no words were returned.

Our two families walked side by side to the school’s entrance, with me stabbing at light topics on the long block walk. “How’s your son liking school?” and “Anything special packed for his lunch today?” were both answered with one word: “Fine.” and “No.”

I was thinking this mom may just not be a morning person. I didn’t take anything to heart, until we arrived at the school’s entrance. As if hit by Cupid’s arrow, the drawn face she had with me broke out into a glorious tooth filled grin. “Hi, everybody!” she rang out in 125 decibels across the school’s front yard. And, if that personality shift weren’t enough to stun me like a fish dropped into cold water, she then began to hand out pretty flowered 3×5 party invitations. She handed them to every mother there in the small group, but glossed over me.

I became silent, and put on a soul-sucking fake smile for my son, “Have a great day at school, Auggie! I love you.”

“Love you, too, mama!” and he went running in through the doors that were propped open for the morning.

I watched my little boy go in for the day, and I stood there alone. My head was filled with the question of how someone could not know just how hurtful it was to pass out invites to all except me. My thoughts then went to, “It’s me. It’s something about me. Something’s wrong with me.

I knew this, at this very moment, would be my post for Just.Be.Enough.

We are enough to ourselves; we are enough. I do not have to be included in things, or be popular, or in a clique, or in a group that excludes, to be enough.

I am enough because I am there for me. I am enough because I have been there for others. I am enough because I seek the company of others who get the reason we are on this planet together.

I am enough, and I am grateful to have a place to have these words said publicly. I am grateful for Just.Be.Enough, and the readers/contributors/followers we are amassing here.

We are all enough. And we cannot let others make us feel any differently.




About Elena

Living, doing, and growing, Elena is a freelance writer and chaser of dreams trying to make every moment matter. Follow her adventures at LiveDoGrow. You can also find her on @ElenaSonnino on Twitter.

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