I’ve been feeling like I should be more proud of myself. After all, I graduated high school against some pretty rough odds. Against the trauma, the PTSD.
And, I mean, I am proud…but it wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter? I guess there’s always been this understanding for me that of course I succeed, of course I perform (and to a high standard, too).
I haven’t thought about this in a while, actually: this idea that I was a “trophy daughter” to my dad. Something to be shown off at parties, polished and pretty. I guess what I learned from it might have been that my success isn’t my own. It’s a given, and a given for people to brag about to their friends, even when they had no hand in said success whatsoever.
But that’s so, so wrong.
Honestly? I think I kind of kicked butt, and I think I deserve the right to toot my own horn a little bit. I made it through all of high school with straight A’s all around, even when I was dealing with my PTSD, even when my dad was being a creep. And I think I should celebrate that a little more.