Tag: achievement

Are You Proud Of Yourself?

“You should be proud of yourself,” my husband said. “You wrote a book.”

It was nice to hear. It meant a lot. He went on to tell me how much I have achieved and how proud he was of me. 

I keep thinking about his words. Something was bothering me. And I realized what it was. 

I understand that I should be proud of myself. I wrote a book. Me. By myself. In English, which isn’t even my native language. While raising a baby. And a teenager (nope, it’s not easier, I’m sure parents of teenagers will understand.)

I wrote a whole novel. 

Why do I not feel proud?

I mean, I do feel good about it. I love my story. I know that after this final round of edits that I’m doing now it will shine even brighter. I can’t wait to share it with the world. I do believe that it’s going to be a great book. 

But where’s that overwhelming feeling of joy and pride? Where’s the “Wow, I’m so awesome, I did it” moment? 

It’s not there. There’s a whole lot of other things though. There’s “I probably could’ve done it better”; there’s “Okay, so you wrote a book, good, now get to the publishing and marketing side of things, too much to learn and do, no time to lose”; there’s “I need to write more, only where do I find the time, look, other authors are writing and releasing several books a year”. And there’s a bunch of other disturbing thoughts and worries. I’m steaming ahead in an attempt to catch up, to make up for the time I “lost” (I know it’s a misperception, but it happens when you’re dreaming of writing all your life but only start doing it when you’re 41).

And I guess I’m in too much of a rush to pause, look back at what I’ve achieved, and feel the pride. The key word here is feel. Not just understand, acknowledge or think of it as a fact. It’s important to attach some emotion to it.

Like a kid bringing home an award or a trophy from school, beaming with happiness. 

That kind of proud. 

I tried to remember the last time I felt anything like that. I couldn’t. 

I know the feeling, though, because I feel proud of other people. 

Earlier today my niece called me with some great news about her work. It’s something that she learned quite recently, and she made incredible progress in a short period of time. And now she has people who want to learn it from her. She was so thrilled to get a request from a student; her voice was filled with so much genuine happiness and pride – I could hear it although we’re thousands of miles apart and I couldn’t see her face. And I felt that pride and happiness for her. You know, that somewhat ticklish feeling of warmth in your chest, like you have your own little sun there caressing your heart with its rays.

I feel proud of my kids for their successes, big or small. Sometimes it’s so overwhelming it makes me want to cry.

I feel proud of my husband for all his accomplishments and achievements.

Why am I not that generous with pride when it comes to myself? Why do I get a “well done” and a virtual pat on the back from myself (okay, maybe a little treat sometimes too), but not the genuine feeling of pride? 

Why do I find time to write long to-do lists and set tons of reminders, but don’t find time to write a list of things that I’m proud of? 

Because first of all, I need to allow myself to be proud of my own achievements. 

I’ll imagine there’s a ‘Settings’ menu somewhere inside my mind, and all I need to do is open that menu, find the “Appreciate yourself and feel proud” option, and hit ‘Allow’. Done. 

And then I’ll write down a list of things that I’m proud of. Most probably, it won’t be that easy at the start. But I’ll still try. 

And when I succeed (because of course I will succeed), I will look at the list of my achievements and I will take each and every thing on it and infuse it with a feeling. A feeling of pride and happiness. A feeling of joy, fulfillment and gratification. 

I want to sit there with my eyes closed and a huge smile on my face, thinking about how amazing and cool I am.

I want you to do the same. (Well, with your own achievements though. But feel free to think that I’m amazing too, I won’t mind.) 

Go change your inner settings and make that list. What have you done (recently or years ago, it doesn’t matter) that makes you feel happy and proud? 

I’ll start. 

  1. I wrote a book.

Your turn.

Finding Strength In Your Weakness

LIfe is tough. Let’s admit it.

Each and every one of us is fighting battles of our own, and going through certain struggles that in most cases are not even visible to people around us. First of all, because we don’t like to share them. I mean, who wants to admit their weaknesses? Besides, we live in the time when it’s so important (and easy) to build a pretty-looking image of ourselves and our lives on social media. Right? We don’t post pictures of our messy houses or a sink full of dishes, we don’t post selfies featuring puffy eyes and messy hair after a sleepless night. 

We don’t go around telling strangers (not even friends and family in most cases) that we are going through depression, anxiety, that we are facing our deepest fears in our nightmares or maybe they’re haunting us in those few quiet moments that we get to ourselves. 

We want to be strong.

We need to be strong. 

We need to achieve goals, to meet deadlines, to tick boxes on our to-do lists, we need to be kind, positive, supportive, optimistic, full of inner light and neverending wisdom that we use to help others. 

We need to focus on the positive. 

We need to count our blessings. 

We need to beware of sharing our weaknesses so that people don’t use them against us. 

We need to be perfect humans.

Except we’re not. None of us. Even the most productive, successful, rich, enlightened, beautiful, handsome, smart, talented human beings are not perfect. For one reason only: they are merely humans. 

Flawed and weak. Annoyed and annoying. Silly and inexperienced. In the middle of learning or not even willing to learn. Insecure or arrogant. Cheerful or frustrated.

We all have one thing in common – we’re all making small steps along this path called life, sometimes blindfolded, sometimes with our hands tied behind our backs, sometimes stumbling while walking barefeet and sometimes driving a brand new Ferrari or maybe even equipped with a night vision device. 

We still rarely know where we’re headed, and how exactly we can get there. 

And it’s okay. 

It’s okay to fall, if you get up afterwards. And you know what, it doesn’t even have to be straight away, really. If you just wanna curl into a ball and lie there for a while, it’s also okay. 

It’s okay to cry, if you smile later. Not one of those fake “I’m-pretending-to-be-okay-when-I’m-dying-inside” smiles. A genuine smile that comes after your tears have cleansed your soul, and the world around you becomes colorful again (because it does, it always does) and you see a dog chasing its tail or hear a child laughing. 

Stop pretending to be a superhuman and just be yourself. Your beautifully imperfect, flawed,vulnerable, fragile …  wait, here it comes, that terrible insulting word … WEAK self.

Just don’t forget that you are surrounded by the same kind. All of them masking their struggles, swallowing their tears, faking their smiles. Ordinary human beings. 

And as soon as you accept and embrace your weaknesses, you’ll find your strength. It won’t stay forever. You will most definitely lose it again at some point. But if it stays with you even for a while, for a small part of the way, if it gets you off your knees and puts you behind the wheel of a Ferrari – it’s worth it.

The choices we make

I opened my plan for the week only to realize that it was the plan for the past week. 

I didn’t make a new plan for this week. 

And it’s already Thursday. Somehow. 

My first thought was, “I failed. Again. I keep trying to do everything right, but I never succeed.”

Of course I don’t. I never will.

The thing is, I can’t do everything right. Nobody can. And the sooner I accept that, the sooner I will start not only feeling better, but also actually getting things done.

Because getting frustrated over your own imperfections doesn’t lead you to perfection. It does, however, consume a lot of your time and energy. You know, the time and energy you could’ve spent on being productive.

If you forgot to do something, you have at least two options: 1. Go and do it now. 2. Don’t do it, but instead keep punishing yourself for forgetting about it. Looks pretty obvious, but the fact is, we tend to choose the second option more often than we think. 

My week wasn’t messed up because I didn’t make a plan. Sure, I might have missed a couple things, because plans really do help to keep track of everything that needs to be done. But I haven’t missed anything vitally important. I still got a lot done. The week isn’t even over yet, so I can still catch up on other things. And I can always write a new plan. 

It’s all about the choices we make. I can choose to see it as a “failure”, or I can say “Oops, I forgot to do it. Oh well, so what. Next time I’ll try to do better.” 

Imagine if we could make those choices in our interactions with other people. 

Your boss can remember that you are a valuable employee and treat you with respect and gratitude. Or he can choose to be a rude jerk, because he had a fight with his wife earlier and he’s in a bad mood. His choice. 

Your partner can focus on the love between you and all the good moments in your relationship, or hold a grudge because of something you said or did. Again, not your choice.

You smile at the lady behind the counter in a shop, wishing her a good day. How she responds to you is her choice. 

Wouldn’t it be great if you could make choices for all those people? If you could choose for them to treat you the way you want? The way you deserve? 

It would be pretty cool, I agree. But we know it’s impossible. (Which makes perfect sense, because, you know, free will and all that…)

However, it is very much possible when we deal with ourselves. 

You can choose to treat yourself the way you deserve to be treated. 

You can choose to be kind to yourself. 

You can choose to be supportive of yourself.

You can choose to be proud of your accomplishments.

You can choose to be understanding when you make a mistake. 

You can choose to be patient with yourself.

You can choose to be your own best friend.

Why would you even consider being anything other than that?

Worries, self-doubt and pigeon sh*t

Imagine yourself walking along the beach. 

The sun is shining, a light sea breeze is playing with your hair, it’s peaceful and calm. Sure, you can hear a few seagulls yelling at each other while fighting over food, but that’s just an integral part of the scenery, nothing to be annoyed about. 

It’s a beautiful day. You’re in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. All you’re happily concerned with is inhaling some fresh salty air, and enjoying the look and feel of the sun rays as they caress your skin and beautifully reflect off the blue surface of the sea.

You keep walking, and you find a stone. It’s covered in bird poop. You pick it up and slide it into your pocket.

That’s your worries. Something that makes you agitated every time you think about it. Something that even gives you anxiety. Something that is now resting in the pocket of your favorite jeans, while the dust and bird excrements are rubbing against the material. 

You keep walking. You find a bigger rock this time, one that’s even dirtier. You pick it up and run your fingers along its filthy surface. With a gentle smile playing on your lips, you put it carefully in the other pocket. 

That’s your self-doubt. 

As you continue walking, you start feeling the discomfort of the rocks rubbing against your leg through the thin lining of the pocket. You cringe, but keep walking, looking under your feet for more rocks. 

There are lots of them in the sand. Offense, negativity, fears, I-can’t-s, what-if-s, I-should-have-s, I-shouldn’t-have-s, I’m-not-good-enough-s. All peppered with seagull and pigeon shit, some with a dry piece of stinking dry seaweed stuck to their surface. 

Your pockets are getting heavier as you keep filling them with rocks.

It’s not that easy to walk anymore. The rocks are in fact pulling your jeans down, and you glance around to check if anyone can see that you are about to lose your pants.

But you keep walking, and picking up new rocks. The pockets are full, your hands are full. The smell is becoming more and more distinct. 

You can’t let go of the rocks though. 

You’re barely dragging your feet through the sand now, and you need to keep pulling those jeans up all the time. 

Suddenly you remember that somewhere in the bottom of your pockets, you had some beautiful tiny seashells that you had picked up earlier. And a few pieces of beach glass, bright green, perfectly polished by the sea, looking like emeralds. 

Your achievements. Your blessings. Results of your hard work. Things that are supposed to bring you joy and sense of fulfillment, were they not buried underneath a pile of dirty rocks. 

You decide to sit down on the sand and empty your pockets, when a seagull bombards you from above, shitting all over your baseball cap. 

That’s public opinion. 

You take your cap off and study it for a minute, looking at it closely, inhaling the smell of fresh bird poop, and then you put it back on your head. Carefully, trying to make sure that all of it stays and nothing is smudged accidentally. 

You then go through the contents of your pockets, putting the dirty rocks to one side and the shiny glass to the other. 

You look at both piles, and then you look at the beach around you, thinking of how much easier the walk would be if you left those stones on the sand. Oh, and there’s a trash can nearby, where you could leave the dirty hat, because you’ve got a few more at home, and the shops haven’t run out of them either. 

The emerald green beach glass is sparkling on the sand. You pick it up and hold it against the sun. The smooth polished surface feels so great between the tips of your fingers. You enjoy the beauty for a moment or two, and then toss the glass aside. Then you start filling your pockets with the poop-covered rocks, making sure you don’t miss a single one.

You get up clumsily, pull up your jeans with a familiar gesture and continue dragging yourself through the sand. 

The sun hides behind the clouds. 

The seagulls have the most annoying voices. 

The contents of your pockets stink.

You sigh and head back home, holding on tightly to your newly acquired “treasures.”

Does any of this look or sound familiar by any chance?