What Am I Proud Of?

In my writing group yesterday we wrote about one thing that made us proud of ourselves. So I thought that would be a good idea for a blog. I have done lots of things that have made me happy, but proud or amazed?  I just don't know.  Some of my journal entries sound good to me and I am proud of them, but I don't share them with anyone.  I did share one with my significant person (or SO for significant other in med. language). But he didn't look at the writing, or the message.  He just said yeah well I think you dwell  too much on that and should let it go.  Which was much less than helpful.  I was trying to let it go.  By exploring it in my journal I hoped to disect it and look at the tiny parts as insignificant in my life and there by begin to heal and recover from the pain of the incident.  I should have known that a man would not look that deep.  I mean suggesting I get over it was not the issue.  I wanted to get over it and for the most part I don't think of that event very often, but when I do, it still makes me cry.  I'm trying to probe it, peel the layers and find the root and destroy that root.  I love all these analogies, but metaphores leave me cold.  I'm like that character "Bones" on TV though not even 10% as smart as she is. But I always think of metaphors in literal terms. I never know what the person is trying to say.
Anyway back to the analogies of my journal.  I don't always use the analogies in my journal, it is the process of journaling and reliving the hurt that I use.  The analogy is only my way of describing how the process helps heal emotional pain.  My therapist likes using the medical model to describe the process, and I do too.  It seems to make the process almost visual for me. But I can't explain this to my SO although I did try.  But it was as lost on him as metaphors are on me.  Leave it to a man to just make an emotional, painfully heartbreaking incident  a "just get over it" situation. 

So what did I do that I'm proud of?  I wrote about getting myself through 5 years of nursing school (part time takes a little longer) as a single parent and graduating with high honors. I did have help from my mother and SO with care of my daughter.  I don't know if it was great, but it was hard and I think my daughter paid a price for my education.  I also think it was good for her in some ways:  to see that if you miss the boat the first time you can go after it again (I know that's a metaphor but it seems to fit), to see that hard work can pay off, to learn that being a mom doesn't mean you give up yourself (she knows that better than I did), to remember that everyone needs help once in a while, and it's ok to ask (which she does better than I do), and as long as you really love your child and are able to put yourself in his or her place at least sometimes you'll probably be a good parent and raise an emotionally healthy child.  At least I hope that's true.  My daughter is now back in school studying social work.  I think she'll be a good social worker someday.