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“What’s the point of trying if it just shows I’ll never be good enough?”
Anakin was near tears, and Obi-Wan didn’t feel qualified to deal with it.
In fact, Obi-Wan had had a rather bad day, all in all. A summons to the council about a recent mission that went poorly, he’d accidentally left his window open while they were gone and the wind had blown his (and Anakin's) flimsiwork around the room, and he’d spilled the last of his favorite tea all over his robes that morning.
So no, he didn’t exactly want to be spending his time consoling a twelve year old in the third meltdown this week over his inadequacy, but that was an uncharitable thought, and he pushed it aside, gathering calm in the Force and breathing out deeply.
“I’m sorry you feel like that, Anakin,” he responded, “But I assure you, it isn’t true.”
Anakin frowned, arms crossed. “You
said
my reading would get better!”
“I also said it would take time.”
Pouting, his padawan ignored him.
“Oh, come now,” Obi-Wan lowered himself to the boy’s level and sat beside him on the floor or the training salle, “why are you worrying about being good enough? Enough for what? You’re good enough for your classes, for your age, and for yourself, and you’re good enough for the Force. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”
Anakin looked up at him with teary eyes, then turned away sharply again. He shook his head, padawan braid flying.
“No?” Obi-Wan tried, “Why not?”
“Because, okay?” Anakin yelled, “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore!”
He sighed. “All right, but will you meditate with me?” Maybe he could release some of his anger and frustration into the Force- maybe it might help him get through some of the feelings of inadequacy he still held, despite Obi-Wan’s best efforts to help.
“No.”
Anakin got to his feet and stomped off towards his rooms.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan called carefully, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” He was trying, he was trying s o hard to be the Jedi Master Qui-Gon would have wanted him to be, but the emotional struggles of his Padawan were complicated and sometimes unprecedented in the Temple halls, and he didn’t know what to do.
Anakin paused.
“Fine.”
He moved back over to sit by Obi-Wan. “But only ‘cause I know you wanna talk.”
“You’re right,” Obi-Wan encouraged softly, “I do. I want to help with what’s bothering you.”
“What’s
bothering me
is that I’m not good enough!” Anakin said bitterly, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes.
“Okay. Why do you feel like that?”
Anakin glanced up, then back at his feet. “ ‘Cause it’s true.”
“It’s not,” Obi-Wan continued, “So why do you feel like that? What makes you feel like you’re not good enough?”
“It’s in my brain,” Anakin admitted, then continued in a crescendo, “I can just
feel
the wrongness, and I’m not as fast as I should be and I get confused too easily and I don’t understand what things
mean
and everyone hates me!”
“Hey,” Obi-Wan gently tugged Anakin’s balled hands out flat, “Breathe. I’m sure no-one here hates you.”
“That’s what
you
think,” his Padawan grumbled.
Obi-Wan took a moment to think, and changed tacks.
“If someone were feeling sad, do you think you would know?”
“Yeah,” Anakin said, like it was obvious, “I always know, that’s why I’m a Jedi, right?”
Obi-Wan sent out silent thanks that his Padawan was not actually as perceptive as he thought himself, or his own nightmare-filled mornings would leave two people with not enough sleep instead of one.
“Yes,” he said, “So, do you think you could tell if they were angry?”
“Oh yeah,” Anakin boasted, “anger is easy.”
“Exactly. So, if they were mad at you, if they hated you- which they don’t- you would know, right?”
Anakin grumbled, avoiding Obi-Wan’s gaze.
“Right?” he repeated.
“Yes, Master,” Anakin grumbled.
He still looked upset. It would have been obvious to a non-force sensitive, even though the way he was projecting in the Force nearly made Obi-Wan wince.
A few moments passed, with no relent in the grumpy emotional barrage. Obi-Wan decided to risk another question.
“Is anything else bothering you?”
Anakin kicked at the floor with his heels. “I still don’t think I’m good enough. Sorry.”
“That’s alright,” Obi-Wan said, hopes falling, “sometimes it takes time to believe the truth.”
“You said I was good enough for myself, and the force, and my age,” Anakin said begrudgingly, “but that’s not the
problem.”
Obi-Wan cast about for some sort of other bar Anakin could be measuring himself by, and continued carefully, “The other students are on different paths than you. Everyone learns at different speeds, and-”
“No!” Anakin said frustratedly, “It’s
you!”
What?
“It’s you,” Anakin repeated quietly, pulling his hands back and hugging himself.
“What did I do?” Obi-Wan said, completely befuddled.
“ That I’m not good enough for.”
Oh.
“Oh no, Anakin,” he said, opening his arms for a hug, “Padawan, is that what’s been troubling you?”
Anakin nodded into his shoulder.
“You never need to worry about that,” Obi-Wan said, some mix of emotions he couldn’t quite parse surging through him, “Okay? You’re always good enough for me. You are my Padawan, and you are exactly as you should be. And I am so proud of you.”
He sat there for a few minutes, while Anakin sniffled and pretended he wasn’t sniffling. Obi-Wan could relate, blinking back some strong emotions himself.
Obi-Wan decided he’d make some Hoth Chocolate when they got back to their rooms. It had obviously been hard for Anakin to say what he’d needed to, and he deserved a treat.
He tucked away the fact that his Padawan had been feeling inferior because of
him
for later examination. Not now, when there was chocolate to be drunk and bedtime to be had, not now, when he would tuck his Padawan into bed and hear him giggling for another hour at his holobooks. Not now, when everything was finally okay.