Raspberry Iced M

I have proof.

Actual documented evidence.

Emails sent. Texts exchanged. Problems solved. Days survived.

And yet, somehow, my brain decides, periodically, that none of it counts.

How does that even happen?

1. I treat every new challenge like it’s my first day on Earth. Past experience? Irrelevant. Surely this obstacle will be the one that ends me.
2. I discount success because it felt hard. If solving a problem required stress, effort, or learning, I assume it doesn’t qualify as competence, as if “easy” is the only acceptable metric.
3. I assume good outcomes were luck. Timing. Kind people. A one-off fluke. Definitely not ability.
4. I remember feedback selectively. Because criticism sticks like glue and praise travels right over my head like it was never meant for me.
5. I raise the bar immediately after clearing it. Like the issue I just overcame was fine, but I need to think about why it doesn’t really count going forward. Facepalm.
6. I compare my behind-the-scenes to other people’s highlight reels. A classic mistake. I know better. I do it anyway.
7. I forget how many things I figured out without instructions. No roadmap. No manual. Not even a lot of advice. Just me and my phone, Googling, or watching a YouTube tutorial, and making it work.
8. I confuse “still learning” with “not capable.” I think we all have this idea in our minds of what it means to be an adult, or by what age we should have an accomplished career, bought a house, or [insert adult thing here]. But being “in progress” in certain areas of my life does not erase things I already know.
9. I overlook quiet achievements. I am really quick to shame myself when I don’t get credit, yet I neglect to give myself credit when I have overcome certain obstacles, big or little. I have mastered the art of homemade blueberry muffins. I talk to attorneys (technically even my bosses) like I am their equal, and I’ve done it so much that my input and my voice actually mean something to them. I am a fast reader. I learned how to use tampons all on my own. I cut my own bangs now with ease. Not everything I am good at is loud, impressive or visible. But that doesn’t make those things less real.
10. I underestimate myself by default. It’s not because I am incapable. Or incompetent. It’s because self-doubt can be louder than receipts sometimes.

Competence and a sense of accomplishment don’t always announce themselves. Those things accumulate quietly by showing up, learning, and being resilient. These days I practice by looking at the evidence, even when my brain tries to pretend that evidence is missing.

Did you know you have survived every single thing meant to destroy you? That thing that’s whipping your physical body, mental health, or emotional stamina is another thing you’ll survive, too.

Happy Tuesday to you.