This week, my cousin celebrated one year sober from alcohol. Knowing just a snippet of the ups and downs she’s gone through in the past year, and an even smaller snippet of the science behind getting sober, I’m pretty proud of her.
She’s proud of herself, too.
“I have so much to say about this, but it all comes down to this. I’m proud of myself. Really really proud,” she posted on social media with a photo indicating the anniversary.
I texted her with a couple heart emojis and moved on with my day. But it popped up on my feed again later in the day, and I started thinking about what event in my life would spark that same kind of pride.
Immediately, I thought of the day I (hopefully) accept an offer for a full-time reporting job. I thought of all the times I’ve been proud of myself in the past — when I accepted the job that allows me to write these columns for you, when I was accepted to colleges, when I finished various internships.
But there was something missing from all of these things. I wasn’t celebrating my personal achievements as I was my professional ones.
And it was that thought that sent me down the rabbit hole. Why are people — especially women — so nervous to admit a little pride? Why do we place so much value on climbing the professional ladder? On acing a test or gaining a scholarship? Why can’t we be proud of the relationships we’ve built, the metaphorical mountains we’ve tackled, the insight and sense of self we’ve gained?
We should be proud of each other, too. That friend who finally checked into therapy after years of mental health issues? Hell yeah, good for them. Your family member who’s fed up and won’t indulge in drama anymore? That’s great news, I’m glad to hear it. The coworker who’s writing poetry on the side? I can’t wait to read it.
Too much pride can be dangerous, of course. But I’d argue we don’t ration enough pride into our mental and emotional diet. If you can’t pat yourself on the back when you reach the peak of a mountain, then why even suffer through the climb in the first place?
After a lot of thought and even more questions — bonus points if you can count the question marks in this article — I decided a short text with heart emojis wasn’t enough of an acknowledgement of my dear cousin’s accomplishments. Maybe a few inches of print in a student newspaper will do the trick.
In our first issue of 2020, we start the decade with more coverage of legal weed and faculty buyouts in the news section.
Our sports reporters analyze the reasoning behind the women’s basketball team’s starting lineup and look ahead at what the 2020s will mean for Loyola athletics.
Opinion Editor Adrian Nevarez argues why we should look beyond the memes in the heightened situation in Iran, and opinion writer Kennidy Polcyn urges lawmakers to invest in education programs on the harmful effects of smoking.
A&E includes a review of Selena Gomez’s long-awaited album “Rare” and a film review of “1917,” the WWI movie nominated for Oscars this week.