PRIDE – prīd/
Noun – a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired.
Pleasure, joy, delight, gratification, fulfillment, satisfaction, a sense of achievement, taking pride in a job well done.
Verb – be especially proud of a particular quality or skill. Be proud of oneself for, take pride in, take satisfaction in, congratulate oneself on, pat oneself on the back.
Day 5 – Blogging Challenge
Your Proudest Moment
I’ve experienced many moments of pride in my life, from the monumental to the minuscule. For instance, I created life. Several times. Monumental. This morning, I woke up on time. Minuscule. Choosing a proudest moment is harder than it sounds. Some of those moments are emotional, tear producing, fist-pumping, yee-fricking-haw inducing, and others simply produce a genuine smile, a feeling of satisfaction that make us give ourselves a mental high-five or hearty personal pat on the back.
Pride is a good thing as long as it isn’t boastful or arrogant, feeling pride in ourselves is what spurs us forward, that feeling of a job well done is well deserved and important. We don’t always give ourselves enough credit for the things we do and that can lead to feelings of low self-esteem. We are worthy of feeling proud of ourselves, even if it’s something as seemingly insignificant as not forgetting to put the wash in the dryer. Goodness knows I’m proud of myself when I remember that, (even when I’ve already had to re-run it twice).
Instead of choosing a single proudest moment, I think I’ll instead list a few memorable ones from the archives of my mind. Some are big, some are small, but I’ve felt some level of pride in each of them . . .
So, in no particular order or amount of pride felt – a sampling of my proudest moments.
The births of my children.
Potty-training each of them.
Graduating high school.
My first perfectly poached egg. (perfectly may be overstating it, but it was poached)
Publishing my first poem.
Seeing my first article in print.
Every time I see my words in print.
Landing my first job.
Watching my children graduate.
Learning how to work my VCR. Yes, VCR. I’m still trying to figure out the DVD player.
Buying our own home.
Watching my daughter walk down the aisle and say, “I do”.
Surviving a million IEP meetings without explosive rage.
Almost 27 years so far of damn good parenting.
Every year I celebrate my wedding anniversary.
Hearing my mother say she is proud of me.
Being strong each time I feel weak.
Figuring out how to send a picture in a text.
Lettering in high school dance and choir.
Surviving and overcoming things in life that could have broken me.
Raising 2 special needs children and seeing them become so much more that some thought they would ever be.
Not breaking every dish I’ve ever owned.
Saying no to cake sometimes.
When I make someone else smile.
Remembering my grocery list when I go to the store.
Turning off Netflix before the next episode starts when it’s way past my bedtime.
Helping others navigate through their journey with autism.
Receiving a heartfelt thank you for being there for someone else.
I’m sure I’d feel a little more pride if this were a slightly more extensive and impressive list, but I’m kind of proud of myself for getting this far. Me and my words have been kept away from each other by unexpected and unfortunate circumstances of late, which is why day 5 of this blogging challenge is just now being completed 56 days since it was started. I’m not proud of that. Wait, yes I am! I could have just said, aww – forget it, but I didn’t. I suppose that particular example may be stretching the limits of things to feel pride in, but then again, accomplishment is accomplishment, right? I’m going to let myself feel a wee bit of pride in this one.
Think about your day, what are you proud of? Every day we do something – little things, big things, and in-between things that we can be proud of. Give yourself that pat on the back – I know you deserve it . . .