I was wondering why I always feel like I am constantly striving for something, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to reach it. I put in all the effort—the late nights, the early mornings, the sacrifices—but it’s never enough. And in those moments of failure, I can’t help but wonder: Who’s going to be proud of me when I’m still failing?
I look around and see the success stories of others, the awards, and the achievements, and I can’t help but get envious. I wonder what I was doing wrong, why I couldn’t get a chance, why success always seems to elude me. And in the midst of all this self-doubt, I can’t help but question whether anyone is proud of me, whether anyone sees the effort I’m putting in, whether anyone believes in me despite my failures.
I scroll through social media, assaulted by images of perfect lives, perfect looks, perfect relationships, and I can’t help but feel inadequate. I compare myself to others, measuring my worth against theirs, and I can’t help but feel like I am lacking. And in those moments of despair, I can’t help but wonder: Who’s going to be proud of me when I’m still struggling to reach the standard?
When I went to family gatherings, I was surrounded by relatives who asked about my achievements, my study, and my relationship, and I couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment. I tried to muster up a little pride as I recounted my latest endeavors, but deep down, I knew that I wasn’t where I wanted to be. And in those moments of shame, I can’t help but wonder: Who’s going to be proud of me when I still haven’t achieved expectations?
Even as I look in the mirror and see a reflection of all my flaws, all my mistakes, and all my regrets, I try to summon a little self-compassion and a little self-love, but it’s hard when all I see are my flaws. And in those moments of self-loathing, I can’t help but wonder: Who’s going to be proud of me when I can’t even be proud of myself?
I might feel like I’m longing for validation, for recognition, for someone to see past my failures and see the potential within me. I wish someone would hold my hand and tell me that it’s okay to stumble, that it’s okay to fall, and that it’s okay to not understand it all. And in those moments of vulnerability, I can’t help but wonder: Who’s going to be proud of me when I’m still trying to find my way?
But maybe, just maybe, pride isn’t reserved for the moments of success, the moments of glory, the moments of victory. Maybe pride is found in the journey itself, in the resilience, the perseverance, the determination to keep going even when the odds are stacked against me. Maybe pride is found in the small victories, the small achievement, the moments of growth and self-discovery along the way.
Maybe pride is found in the people who stand by me, who believe in me, and who cheer me on even when I feel like giving up. Maybe pride is found in the love of family and friends, in the endless support, the unconditional acceptance, and the affirmation that I’m enough just the way I am.
Maybe pride is found in myself, in the courage to keep going even when it’s hard, in the resilience to recover from failure, in the strength to keep believing in myself even when no one else does. Perhaps pride is found in the realization that success is not defined by external measures, but by the internal journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance.
Maybe the next time I find myself wondering who’s going to be proud of me when I’m still failing, I will remember that pride is not dependent on external validation. I deserve pride simply because I have tried, because I have grown, and because I have learned to love myself despite my flaws.
