Words I didn’t think I’d ever say

“I’m proud of myself”

I can’t believe I didn’t cringe when I said this out loud.

My wonderful coach (hi!) and I were reflecting on my journey, growth, and accomplishments over the last few months and I said — more than once — that I was proud of myself.

As a teenager and young adult (and older adult, too, let’s be real) I hated it when my dad told me he was proud of me (again - hi!). He knows this; we’ve talked about it; and he’s proof that even at his age (he he), people can change - I know he’s still proud of me but he’s also got the message and has learned to choose different words to express those feelings.

‘I am proud of you’ feels like judgment to me; it feels like it’s related to the outcome; it feels like it’s been a representation of the mis-match I’ve felt my whole life between how I feel on the inside and how I am perceived on the outside.

Receiving compliments often makes me feel like I am not truly seen. It’s my mask, my persona, the things that I put into this world that are receiving the high five, not the real me underneath all of that.

Do you ever feel like you get all of this positive feedback for accomplishing things; for the outcome; for how it looks; for the achievement, but it doesn’t feel good?

I’m starting to wonder if for me, it’s because it’s related to the what, and not the how.

When I said to my coach that I am proud of myself, it wasn’t about being proud of what I had accomplished, but about the how.

Photo by Martino Pietropoli on Unsplash

Each and every step since September of last year that led to the launch of my coaching business Purposeful Connection required me to learn, to grow, to explore, to get out of my comfort zone, to take action before I felt ready, to ask for help, etc.

The question alone if and how I wanted to talk about my neurodivergence and whether I would offer coaching specifically for ADHDers led me down a path of hours of conversations, workshops, and even further exploring my own neurodivergent identity in therapy. It seemed like a small question along the way, but there was lots for me to unpack.

And that is what I am proud of myself for.

It’s not the ticking the box on my to do list; the accomplishment of making a decision; the milestone reached.

I’m proud of myself for how I went about it:

I’m proud of myself for approaching it all with courage. I noticed when something was unresolved; I noticed when there wasn’t a simple answer; I noticed when something needed to be explored; and then I took action. I looked it in the eye and accepted the challenge. I didn’t know what I would find there; it was a leap into the unknown in many ways; and I chose courage. Courage to ask myself hard question and to say things out loud for the very first time. I’m so grateful for the safe and supportive space my coach created for me in which I could be brave.

I’m proud of myself for asking for help. Asking for help is hard, isn’t it? So much harder than offering help. Why is that? According to this HBR article, the social threats involved—the uncertainty, risk of rejection, potential for diminished status, and inherent relinquishing of autonomy—activate the same brain regions that physical pain does. Yikes!  My mindset shift around asking for help came — as usual — while listening to a podcast. I understood that asking for help is a bid for connection. It’s an offering that says: there’s something bigger here than you and I; we are all connected. 

So, when I created my goals for this year, I decided I wanted to lean into creating deeper connections and included this goal: “Identify one area for help each month and ask for help.” And let me tell you, I have created some beautiful, meaningful connections with people that way this year.

I’m proud of myself for recognizing that feeling supportive and supported is important to me; and in order to feel that, I needed to practice the act of asking for help.

I’m proud of myself for leaning into curiosity. Yes, I often felt frustrated when a decision wasn’t as easy as I wanted it to be or when a seemingly simple task kept showing up on my to do list week over week over week. Some of that is my ADHD, yes, and some of it was because there were underlying things at play that I wasn't aware of. I noticed it, and I allowed myself to not address it head on, but to approach it from different angles, to sit with it, to get closer to it with curiosity. What’s in here? What’s the wisdom in the resistance? What makes this hard? What would make this easier?

I’m proud of myself for giving myself the gift of self-compassion. I trusted my way, even before I knew what my way looked and felt like. I’ve been kind to myself, giving myself space during weeks when everything felt really fucking hard and impossible and I was ready to give up, ready to move on to something else, something easier. I acknowledged the frustration when things didn’t move as fast as I wanted to or when there was yet another fucking obstacle to overcome. I gave myself tender self compassion. I’ve been celebrating my wins, recognizing all the work I’ve been putting in. And whenever it was necessary, I showed myself the mama bear kind of self-compassion, fierce self compassion.

Fierce self-compassion involves “acting in the world” to alleviate suffering. It tends to involve protecting, providing for, and motivating ourselves. Sometimes we need to stand tall and say no, draw boundaries, or fight injustice. Or we may need to say yes to ourselves, to do what’s needed to be happy rather than subordinating our needs to those of others. And if we’re stuck in a bad situation or habits that are harmful, it means doing something different. Not because we’re unacceptable as we are, but because we care.

And as we gently (because - hello unknown!) explored the question of ‘what’s next?’ as our coaching relationship was coming to an end, a grounded sense of calm came over me. I knew I’d be okay.

Whatever is waiting for me on the other side, I’ve figured out my way.

My way looks less of a way but more like a path; I’m barefoot; the ground is covered with soft grass;

the path itself, winding through the meadow, is courage; it’s there for me to take, I just need to put one step in front of the other.

I hear birds singing, even if I can’t see them, a reminder that I am not alone; that support and help is available to me if I just reach out.

small pink and yellow star-shaped flowers are sprinkled throughout, inviting curiosity.

and self-compassion? That’s not on the path; it’s something I carry with me, maybe a blanket for when I need rest and an embrace; and a pair of solid hiking boots for when it’s time to cross rockier parts of my path.