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Don’t tell me I shouldn’t be proud

A while ago I told someone I did something I was really proud of.

They replied with “that’s not something I would be proud of”. I got it.

The thing I was proud of was minuscule … something that required minimal effort or brains. But I was proud of myself because, for me – it was a big deal.

It meant me keeping calm, solving a problem by myself without asking a man or my mummy. It also meant a lot because my anxiety and depression can lead to me throwing my arms up in the smallest of problems and call for someone stronger.

I cried all the way home after that comment. I felt so stupid to be proud of something so tiny – that to others was absolutely nothing! Not a blip on their radar.

Today I did a few things. Firstly – I got out of bed for the first time this half term, properly out of bed. I put make up on and I took BOTH kids out (without a pram) to a Dinosaur thing in a park a fucking age away.

I am PROUD of myself. I am proud for going out – alone. I am proud for getting there. I am proud my son didn’t have any accidents in his pants. I am proud we were all able to manoeuvre the portaloos. I am proud I had wipes in my bag for when my youngest fell in the mud.  I am proud I found something they would both eat.  I am proud I used maps and uber correctly. I am proud we were all just out of the house and clothed appropriately. I am proud of being out of the house.

Yes – there may be many who say “That’s not something you should be proud of.”

But do you know what – I won’t let anyone tell me what to be proud of anymore.

Yes – maybe you ran 10k today, maybe you got a PHD, maybe you won an award… good for you!

I had a wash and took my kids out for a fun day – good for me.

Be proud of yourself! You’re worth it.

 

writing mummy's writing darling

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