On Being Proud

At the beginning of March, I got accepted into graduate school. I cried as I read the e-mail, spread the news around to my family and looked at <u>everything</u>. Apartments, sweatshirts, classes, you name it. I put myself in those situations and felt excited. 

Although I had applied to another school, I felt convinced I wouldn’t get in. That fate would make my decision for me and I was 100% happy with that. This other school is one of the top in country, known for its journalism program and is incredibly difficult to get in to. Of course, my acceptance letter showed up in my account only a few short weeks later.

The decision would be impossible, or so I thought. For a few days, I cried as the anxiety built up, trying to decide what I was going to do although in my heart, I had made the ultimate decision. 

On Saturday I accepted my spot in a masters program. Clicking “I will attend” felt incredibly freeing, exciting and new. I realized at this point that I have never been as proud of myself as I am right now, in fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever really been proud of myself until now.

This might seem kind of sad but I have always had high expectations for myself. I got A’s because I needed to. Always. I got a full ride to college because I worked hard for it. I didn’t get into the college I wanted but got into one I knew I could get in to. I knew I could lose the weight if I set my mind to it. Everything has always been something I knew I could do.

For the first time, I honestly didn’t expect things to go my way. Grad school is hard and selective and I definitely wouldn’t get in. When that first letter came I was surprised  When the second one came, even more so. I had accomplished something I really didn’t think I could and for that, I am still proud and happy.

My future is looking bright right now and I don’t think I could feel any more accomplished than I do right now.


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