I was watching the Master’s coverage with my boyfriend on sunday night, and Rory McIlroy was currently ‘Even’ on the scoreboard. I know very little about golf, but I’m fairly sure that means that if a round has a par of X, he had so far completed it in X shots. Which you’d think was good, right? But the leader was on something like -17. He was 17 times better at hitting a tiny ball than Rory was at that moment.

When did completing something to the baseline target stop being enough to win? When did being ‘good enough’ stop being good enough?

I see my life very differently to how my Mum sees it. I see: always tired, doing alright at work, probably not going to the gym enough, eating too many snacks, not earning enough money, could do with a haircut.. etc etc. Whereas whenever I go home and see my Mum, she’s always been regaling her friends with tales of my successes because I’m: living in my own flat in London, working in a fancy part of town, doing a job I’m good at, losing weight and getting fitter, juggling work, friends and down time, supporting myself, being independent..

Talking to my Mum reminds me that sometimes if getting by is all you can manage, then that’s more than enough. Living in London can be tough at any age, but especially in your early twenties. Finding a job after graduation is tricky, and quite often you have to stray from your path or passion, which I’ve managed to avoid. The housing market here is a joke, and rent is astronomical, so being able to afford a one-bed flat is a huge luxury. Fitting in going to the gym after a hard day at work and then a busy commute home can be difficult, but with my boyfriend on hand to motivate me, we go every day if we can. What I see as ‘getting by,’ an outsider sees as a pretty impressive set of norms. Okay, the outsider here is my Mum, but it still counts.

I think in a world where everything has to be bigger, better and shinier in order to catch anyone’s attention, it’s far too easy to be hard on yourself. I live in London and write for a living. There must be hundreds if not thousands of people who dream that they could do that too, yet I think I’m ‘getting by’ by ticking those two boxes. When I first moved here five years ago I longed for the day that I could afford to live in my own place, and a few years (and 15 housemates) later, here I am, in a flat I chose with my boyfriend as the home we’d make together.

So I’m taking back ‘good enough,’ and making it something to be proud of. Not everyone can be super-duper amazing at everything, but if I can get myself out of bed and into work every morning, and to the gym then have dinner on the table in the evening, then I think I’m doing a damn fine job.