Day… Seventeen! We are past the halfway mark!
Today’s question: “What is your most proud moment?”
Psssshhhhh… I don’t know. Is that sad? I was proud of myself a lot in high school, when I was always making the honour roll and cleaning up at the End of the Year awards assembly. I was proud of myself when I finished 1st year of university with a 11.20 GPA (on a 12 point scale). I know, it’s crazy, I used to be, like, rilly smart-like.
But a single moment? I don’t know. Most of my accomplishments are things that came naturally to me (I claim no responsibility for my body popping out those kids), or they’re things that I didn’t do on my own. I know when I was proudest of someone else who I’d helped along: my husband, when he graduated into the RCMP after six months away from his family, going through hell to follow his dream and make a better life for us.
Damn right I was proud. I guess I was proud of myself, too, for getting through that six months, but I was with my parents during that time, so I don’t take full credit. That moment was really all AJ’s.
Oh, but here’s one. Maybe not the top of the heap, but it’s something: the first time I wrote a story, when I started getting better after round 1 with Depression. Not only that I wrote it (though that was a huge accomplishment), but that I read it over and thought it was good. Yep, pretty proud of myself then.
Finishing a first draft of a novel after years of false starts and abandoned attempts? Also priceless.