The Sunday Archives, Vol.2, No.7
My dearest reader,
we are all too familiar with these moments, are we not?
We achieve something in our lives, be it a grand conquest or something microscopically small, and yet – we find ourselves standing alone. No one was there to have witnessed the struggle in the first place, and not a single soul is here now to applaud us now.
It is a peculiar sort of silence that follows a victory no one else can see.
Quite often, the struggle is entirely internal. I am speaking of the struggles against one’s own self, of course. After all, the most draining battles are the ones fought within the theatre of the mind, are they not?
We could be celebrating a hard-won victory, or we might be quietly marking a triumph over a tedious custom, like the habit of the cigarette, or the reckless drain of the wallet. Or we might be honouring the fact that we managed the sheer act of getting out of bed this morning. These silent accomplishments are the hardest won, yet they go often without a single cheer.
Undoubtedly, our circumstances may differ greatly in their design.
Some of us live among loved ones who are simply too caught up in their own dramas to notice ours.
Others – much like myself – may find ourselves entirely alone, with no one present to witness in the first place, let alone offer a salute.
Whether the room is crowded or empty, the silence is just as profound.
Regardless, it is vital that we recognize and celebrate our own achievements, and since there is no physical trophy for ‘Not giving up today’, we must create the ceremony ourselves!
Therefore, I advise that we pour that glass of something sparkling, that we buy that cake that has been flirting with us from the bakery shelf, or treat ourselves to that long-overdue bath that we so desperately need – or something of an entirely different design, of course.
After all, we are our own closest confidants, are we not? To celebrate our triumphs is not merely an act of acknowledgement, but a matter of loyalty.
If we fail to do so, we are effectively slighting the version of ourselves who fought the battle.
I must stress that a private celebration is never to be confused with pity – it is, in fact, a luxury because it of its exclusiveness. Is there not something sophisticated in a victory that remains entirely ours?
In my view, a win celebrated alone is a much purer act, because it is not done for applause, but by the quiet strength of self-worth.
And let us not forget the trap that is external validation.
If we wait for the world to notice we have done a good job, we give them far too much authority over our own self-esteem.
The act of ‘toasting yourself’ is, therefore, one of self-sovereignty, and in performing this ritual, we reclaim that power we so carelessly granted to others.
A win, in its truest sense, is defined by the effort it required, not by the noise it made.
Until next time.
The realm must be ruled.