Academic or otherwise.

Let’s talk about pride and accomplishment:

I frequently forget I have a college degree. It mattered and I guess I’m proud of it because I’m supposed to be. I have to set metaphorical “alarms”, like I do with medication, to even acknowledge it. Care! It matters! Care!

I finished something, but I’m not sure that that act of finishing made (big) waves for me. I care more about my high school diploma, because that was the bigger obstacle.

The fact that other people may be proud of me for this or that means nothing to me, even though I suppose it should. I don’t have a wholly negative opinion of myself! I don’t mean that AT ALL.

Their pride feels nice, but irrelevant. I don’t know why. I think it’s because I can’t live in it. I know me better because I self-evaluate a lot. Everyone has blind spots. But I know my true victories.

I’m proud of things I write. I’m proud of my habitual honesty and kindness. Of the efforts I’ve made to release bitterness. I’m proud that I’m smart, funny, and usually true to myself. I’m proud of the times I’ve been my best self and not let too much of the world sink in.

You can have 4 degrees and still be a narcissistic asshole. Then none of the right people would care about your degree. It’s all in the love you dole out. Or don’t.

Sorry but not sorry.