A Bit of Pride

“Maybe you’d be proud of me if you knew.” But maybe that’s exactly what my problem is, constantly wondering whether you’d be proud instead of feeling pride myself. Why do I need outside confirmation to tell me what I already know? I mean, not to sound so arrogant, but I occasionally accomplish some bad ass things. I shouldn’t need someone who is practically a stranger after all these years to tell me “good job” when they can’t even recognize the work it took to get there. To them, it was just another on the list of expectations to be checked off. Still, I crave their praise. Their congratulations. Their acknowledgement of my achievements, though they do not know what it took to get there. Instead, they see only a picture of me, smiling brightly atop the summit, with a filter covering any imperfections. This mountain is the highest I’ve climbed yet. The rockiest and most dangerous. No one but me witnessed that, and I suppose that’s partially because I didn’t share that with them. I don’t want anyone to see me struggle. I don’t want to admit that this shit is HARD for me. I don’t want to divulge the blemishes, brandishing my flaws to the world. Yet when others do that, I find myself admiring them more. What is this folly? What are these thoughts swirling inside this thick skull? And I know it’s thick because I’ve spent many a time breaking my falls with it. My mom used to joke that I was testing the thickness with each new concussion. “You can stop any time now, we get the point, you’ve got a thick skull!” Where did these ideas come from? The idea that I cannot share with anyone how imperfect I am. That I cannot be a human even for a moment, because to be human is actually to admit failure. Even in the midst of actively achieving the goal! I look at my accomplishment and I don’t feel pride. Instead, I feel fear that one day someone will realize I didn’t have it all figured out from the get go! I fumbled and fell. I learned lesson after lesson, but don’t want to admit I had to be taught. I had to learn. It didn’t come naturally to me.

 I don’t remember anyone explicitly telling me to believe these things, that I couldn’t be vulnerable, couldn’t share these thoughts with others. I don’t remember ever hearing them from an outside source. That’s the thing, I guess, about our inner critics. They don’t just magically appear one day. They manifest slowly, morphing as you yourself grow into a fully functioning human. Maybe at some point they served a real purpose, keeping you out of trouble, but eventually you outgrew them. Still, they remained, inconspicuous. You’d never lived a life without them so you didn’t even think to realize they did not belong.

Well, I believed the lies for far too long. The inner critics sing a siren song that I am no longer attuned to. I crave pride, and that’s okay. I crave recognition, and that’s okay too. The important part is to realize those things exist already inside me. I don’t have to wait for an outside party to tell me. And I sure as hell don’t have to hide this battle that we all fight.

I have struggled. A lot. I have often felt as if there was no way out of the hole I’d dug myself into. I’ve felt alone, desperate for a friend, yet still pushed others away. I’ve lied, I’ve stolen, I’ve done drugs, drank, smoked. Even now, life is challenging. I could give you a laundry list of all the things I feel need improvement in my life. But for once, and maybe just for now, I want to acknowledge how far I’ve come.

When I was an adolescent, I was absolutely lost, scared, alone, and terrible. I yelled at my parents, fought with my friends, had this belief that I just deserved the world without offering anything. I was depressed, put on medication, at times I was borderline psychotic. I attempted suicide multiple times, once even putting the life of someone most dear to me on the line. I spent some months in mental hospitals, but even more time disguising myself on the internet. Disappearing from my real life in favor of make believe ones. Despite all of that, I went on to be the first of all 5 of my siblings to graduate high school. I managed to stay alive despite all the blatant attempts not to. I also managed to hang on to my humanity, despite how broken I felt. I have continuously strived to be better. I have tried to acknowledge where I am wrong and use it to grow.

Now, I finished my first semester of college, something I never believed I would do. I know others are proud of me, despite not knowing what it’s taken to get here. But most importantly, I am proud of myself. Against all the odds, I keep going. I urge you all to keep going, too. And be vulnerable! Show off the absolute shit you had to trudge through to get where you are. It’s okay to admit that you struggle. If anything, it makes me admire you more.