The Hack I've Sorta Cracked
Learning to Celebrate Myself
None of my graduations were anything I had hoped for or watched my older sister experience. My high school graduation was going well until my dad told me the man I was forced to call “Papa” wasn’t bringing my great-grandmother. My great-grandmother meant and means a great deal to me. - she was the woman who watched me as a little girl, gave me quarters to put in the offering plate at church, paid for every dinner after every Sunday service, and took my siblings and me on a shopping spree with no limit for every birthday. Grandma Doris was a saint - she let me rub her soft, wrinkly skin until I fell asleep at night, threatened to “whip” my mom and dad anytime they argued in front of us, and let me cry in her lap until I was ready to put words to what I was feeling. Not having her at my graduation was devastating, and my dad chose not to tell me until graduation was over and I saw she wasn’t with my family. The first words to fly out of my mouth were “where’s grandma?” By this time, Grandma Doris had dementia, and my “grandfather” chose not to bring her cause it was too much work for him. I remember trying to celebrate myself, but deep down inside, I didn’t want to be in my cap and gown anymore because a part of me wasn’t there.
Even my graduation party went wrong. My mom tasked my dad with preparing the invitations - creating them (he was a graphic designer), ordering them, and mailing them out. My mom and I aren’t sure what happened or what he used her card for, but I never had invitations, and I barely had anyone show up at my graduation party. It was yet another moment that everyone told you about your entire life ripped from me. It wasn’t the first, and it wouldn’t be the last.
I graduated in May 2020, during the peak of the pandemic. My entire college career, I imagined that moment I would walk across the stage, tears in my eyes because I graduated despite all odds and all professors telling me to take a year off. I imagined it would be a do-over of some sort - all the people I loved would be there, and I would have this monumental party with my mentors, professors, friends, and family, where I gave a speech. LOL. Instead, I cried that entire day. I didn’t want any of my family logging on for the virtual ceremony - I barely sent my mom the link. Yet another moment I had dreamed of was ripped away from me. That sense of accomplishment that comes with graduating college never really came. In fact, graduating college still feels like something that just happened for me. The sense of closure took months for me to feel. There was no monumental celebration where I gave a speech surrounded by the ones who nurtured me along the way. No cleansing tears that I did this in the traditional 8 semesters. No silent moment between my mom and me, filled with a mutual understanding that we beat the odds.
My mom and sister did plan a “drive-through” graduation party. Despite the emptiness I felt in celebrating myself, I was thankful they still tried to do something.
These aren’t the only celebrations I’ve struggled with throughout my life. Up until I turned 22, I hated celebrating my birthday. It feels like every year something happened on my birthday that didn’t allow it to be about me or that dampened the celebration of my life. I remember one birthday when I was left out and isolated from playing with the very same girls I had invited. Another where one of them thought they were pregnant, and that became everyone’s focus. On another birthday, my friends decided to fight with me because I invited people they didn’t like. The list could go on, but I feel you get the point.
By the time I turned 18, the idea of celebrating myself had become dreadful - a core fear.
The fear I’ve developed is rooted in the idea that people don’t or won’t value me or my accomplishments the way I hoped they would. They don’t value or see me as much as I do them. It’s a gut-wrenching reality I try to avoid at all costs. So if I don’t bring attention to myself, engage in celebrations that bring attention to me, or share moments or things I’m proud of, I won’t be able to recognize who has chosen not to see me or join me.
Recently, I learned a truth about celebrating oneself.
I was waiting for people to take the lead in celebrating me. They were never going to until I took charge of celebrating myself first and showed them that is an expectation I have of myself and, thus, the people I associate with. I must continuously celebrate myself to teach them I like being celebrated and honored.
Coming from someone who recently learned this truth, it’s easier said than done. But it is possible.
For my 22nd birthday, I made it a point to let all my friends know WE would celebrate me. I gave enough notice for those who would have to travel and fly in. I provided an itinerary for the weekend to give my local friends multiple opportunities to celebrate me if one activity didn’t work for them. I chose to do things I wanted to do versus what I felt the collective would want to do. This doesn’t mean everything went as planned. If something didn’t go as planned, I was still committed to making the most of what I intentionally set out to do - celebrate myself.
Now, when I encounter the desire to celebrate myself, it’s not rooted in fear of others being available, if celebrating me is convenient for them, or if something doesn’t go as expected. Instead, I think about my opportunities to celebrate intentionally, even if no one else wants to join or take witness.
Ways I celebrate myself:
Booking myself a photoshoot: Last year, I was promoted to a role created with my specific skillset in mind. This promotion was one I stayed in prayer over day in and day out. When I first received the news, I called my mom to discuss God’s goodness and faithfulness. She, of course, congratulated me. But we couldn’t celebrate via dinner immediately cause our schedules didn’t match up. Instead of being hurt, I decided to book myself a photoshoot to have new professional headshots to go along with the new role.
I also did this for my 22nd birthday, and it was so much fun to have professional-quality photos of myself.
Ordering my favorite food: As silly as this sounds, this is a way I celebrate myself. I curl up on the couch and order Thai food when I've made it through a hectic work week.
Screenshots: I have a folder on my laptop labeled “Wins.” There are screenshots of feedback from co-workers, clients, and friends detailing my wins. I make it a point to take screenshots of affirmations over the little things and sit with them at the end of the day.