Today, I called my grandmother. She isn’t biologically my grandmother,but I’ve known her as such my entire life way before I knew she wasn’t. Anyway, I talk to her throughout the years every once in a while.
Today, she told me that she was talking about me to my cousin as an example as someone who has done things entirely on their own. She said that she was proud of me.
It was an odd feeling because no one had ever really said that to me. My mother starting saying it to me when i was 25 or 26 but when she said it felt so forced and inauthentic and it also felt empty because five minutes later she’d say something berating me with such passion that I’d forget she’d ever say it in the first place.
Here was someone saying they were proud of me…
AND IT WAS FUCKING WEIRD!
“You’re proud of me?” I said confused
“I sure am! Look at all that you’ve accomplished on your own. You should be proud of yourself!”
“I never really thought of it because I always did what I felt like I had to do”.
Truth is, I did.
My deepest regret is never going to art school and becoming the artist I always wanted to be but for some parts of my life I guess I am proud of myself. I’m proud that I dropped out of high school and decided to get my GED while living in a homeless shelter, I’m proud of myself for having my first art show while I lived in the shelter! , I’m happy I tried job training even though I did not get a job, I’m happy that I pursued my passion of art and made money off of it for a short time, I’m proud that I was tired of living a particular way and was determined to take a risk and put my life in my own hands, I’m proud that I decided to continue going to school. I’m proud that for a moment I got myself help and worked really hard at getting some, I’m proud of my failed business ventures because I tried, I’m proud that nothing in my life has ever pointed towards hope, but I have it anyway.
That’s the thing about depression none of what you achieve or what you’re exceptional in is ever magnified! what is magnified is the terrible bosses, the cruel boyfriends,the fake friends, and the toxic mother. It’s magnified to the point where I constantly question my self worth, my intelligence, my beauty. I feel like I’m a failure because of this because I chose the wrong people in my life and wonder if anyone ever saw me as anything special in the first place.
It’s hard, but I know this isn’t set. I can change my life just as I can change my beliefs of myself. It’s going to take time, effort, and commitment.