Being Proud of Myself

I think I might actually have a new emotion about last year. In the midst of the screaming anger, shrieking fear, and whimpering helplessness there is a new whispering pride. We made it. I made it. Adam’s year was awful…but so was mine. For the first time in our marriage, we struggled through something that we didn’t and couldn’t share, as chemo isolated him from everyone – including from the kids and me. It is not an overstatement to say that we survived by the skin of our teeth just as he did…we all survived different trials.
I often feel guilty for talking about my difficulties last year. Don’t get me wrong – that guilt doesn’t seem to stop me from talking about it, it just makes me feel vaguely wrong. I’m trying to get over that. I’m also beyond ready to feel better. I want to feel like doing something again. I want to be done mourning and to rejoin real life. I’m not yet ready to say that I do feel like doing anything, or that I am done mourning, or that I have rejoined real life…I’m mostly at the “want to want to” stage for now. But that is a step, and it is one that allows me to be proud of the things that I actually am doing – whether I enjoying the doing or not. And that is kinda what real life is about anyway.
Have you seen that video about doing things “like a girl?” The upshot is that being a girl isn’t an insult and that we can do things well regardless of our gender. It, of course, made me cry like a…38-year-old, overly emotional, easily moved…girl. (Or woman. Or lady. Or whatever.) It also reminded me that I have strengths, not just the weaknesses I’ve felt plagued by. I hope that the pride I feel in them is thankfulness and not hubris, and I know that it feels a lot better than fear….

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