Lately, I’ve been having a lot of honest conversations… mostly with myself.
If you asked me today, right now, if I’m proud of who I am at the moment.
I’d probably hesitate.
Because the truth is… I’m not.
Not entirely, anyway.
I’m not proud of how easily I lose patience some days.
I’m not proud of how often I put myself last, or how I let exhaustion become an excuse.
I’m not proud of how messy things feel, not just the house, but my head.
It’s uncomfortable to admit.
Because there’s this expectation that we’re supposed to have it all figured out, especially as parents.
We’re supposed to love every version of ourselves, even when we’re stretched thin, running on fumes, barely holding it together.
But I don’t.
And maybe that’s okay.
The Hard Truth About Accountability
I used to think not being proud of myself meant I was failing.
Like it made me a bad mom, a bad partner, a bad person.
But what I’m realizing is…
It just means I’m paying attention.
It means I can see the areas I want to grow in, the habits I want to change, and the parts of myself I don’t want to stay stuck in forever.
It’s not about self-loathing.
It’s about self-awareness.
Being honest enough to say, “I’m not where I want to be, but I’m not staying here.”
Small Changes, Big Shifts
The older I get, the more I believe in small changes.
Tiny shifts.
Nothing drastic, nothing Instagram-worthy.
Maybe it’s drinking more water.
Maybe it’s choosing not to yell.
Maybe it’s shutting down my phone and going to bed early for once.
Maybe it’s saying no to something that drains me.
Nothing that changes the world overnight.
But everything that slowly adds up to someone I can be proud of again.
I Wonder…
Why do we beat ourselves up for not being perfect when perfection was never the goal?
Why can’t we hold space for the messy middle?
The part where we’re figuring it out, owning where we’re falling short, and still trusting ourselves to get better?
Because right now, I’m not proud of myself.
Yet.
But I will be.