This is Me, Trying to be Proud of Myself: A journey

Being proud of myself isn’t a feeling I’m familiar with. I tend to lean more towards self criticism and doubt rather than pride. In the past, I have been embarrassed by any attention I have received for my accomplishments; always quick to downplay them. You, see good is never good enough for me. Actually, excellent is never good enough for me either. 

I am a perfectionist. At least, that’s what my therapist says. Anything I’ve achieved is nothing but one more piece of evidence I can put on my resume to prove to everyone that I am actually perfect. And that’s it. I keep it moving. On to the next project. The next achievement. The next evidence I can frantically point to when anyone questions my level of perfection.

And I’m realizing now how unhealthy my perfectionism has made me. 

Constantly downplaying my own accomplishments has achieved nothing but further degradation of my already abysmally low self-esteem. Additionally, my unwillingness to celebrate anything about myself hasn’t gone unnoticed. My loved-ones and support system have been rebuffed consistently every time they offer me praise. Though I know they are proud of me, they don’t really make a big deal out of my accomplishments anymore. Which is natural; when people face continuous rejection, they typically give up. This self-perpetuating cycle has resulted in feelings of invisibility that came from nowhere but my own self-sabotaging brain.

So I’m working on reframing the thought pathways that fuel my perfectionism. And I’m starting that process right now because…

I FINISHED MY MASTER’S DEGREE THIS WEEK. 

AND BOY, AM I PUMPED.

The perfectionist part of my brain wants to say “I know it’s just a master’s degree…” but I’m not going to let myself. Because it isn’t just a master’s degree. This degree was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

I’m good at school. School has always been easy for me. It just comes naturally. I am an analytic learner, which (unfortunately) is the learning style the U.S school system is designed for. I also push myself to be perfect, resulting in perfect grades for my entire life. And on top of all that, I love learning. Like, really love it. I was that nerd in school that legitimately wanted to master everything thrown my way.

My master’s degree was a completely different story, however. I hated every single second of my graduate school journey. For two straight years I took full time master’s credits while teaching full time. I don’t suggest that anyone does this. Teaching is such a demanding career, the very last thing I wanted to do at the end of the day was to write research papers in APA format. This program was tortuous. Not the content of the program, necessarily, just actually having to do all the things required of me to complete it. 

The combined stress of my graduate studies, teaching, and my trauma almost killed me.

So I am not downplaying this accomplishment. I am not letting it pass un-celebrated. I want a marching band, and parade floats, and confetti raining from the sky. I want roses thrown at me as I walk into work, one of those giant checks for, like, $1000, and everyone I love standing at attention, cry-clapping for me like Rose at the end of Titanic.

Ok, obviously I’m exaggerating. My point is, I want to get better at tooting my own horn. I am talented. I am intelligent. I have skills. I have worth. I deserve to celebrate the wins, big and small.

I almost killed myself in October, but I didn’t. I am a survivor. I picked myself up off the floor, did the therapy I needed, and worked my ass off to make this degree happen. 

So, on that note, if you’re trying to find me this weekend, I’ll be celebrating my face off. 

All.

Weekend.

Long.