Ain't Too Proud To Brag

What’s real about the Remarkably Real challenge for me is how remarkably difficult it is. Ever since it was announced, I’ve been struggling to think of something about me that applies to this challenge, and I keep coming up blank.

It’s not that I have never been "real" or haven’t done anything that I should be proud of; it's the BEING PROUD that's the problem. I grew up in an environment where confidence was equated with cockiness, and instead of being encouraged to loudly celebrate achievements, you were told not to be a braggart. "Be careful; your head is swelling so much it might explode" is a comment that I've heard many times, directed at many different people in my extended family. Don't get me wrong; I'm not suggesting it was abusive, just my family's style of keeping each other grounded. It was always said in jest, never intended to be insulting, and always met with laughter. Nobody ever asked the intended target how they felt about it, and even if they did, they would never be told the truth. It was easier just to laugh it off.

That is precisely what I did when my uncle's response to me telling him I scored 100% in my first exam in college, was "Well, I guess you got nowhere to go but down." I laughed. It was funny, so funny in fact that I still remember that comment more than thirty years later. Haha indeed.

The year was 1987. I had graduated high school a few years earlier, and other than working part-time jobs in a newspaper printing shop and a department store, I hadn't yet decided what I wanted to do with my life. That's when I enrolled in a Computer Studies course in a local community college. It was a 14-month program, starting in August, ending in September of the following year, after which I would hopefully have a sense of direction and an education leading to a bright future. I had previously taken two night classes in programming, and not only did I love it, I discovered that I was very good at it. Since my interest was piqued, I enrolled in the longer course.

My confidence in my ability to excel in the program was not in vain; as of right from the start, I consistently attained the top grades in the class. While studying full-time and working part-time at the customer service desk in a department store didn't leave much room for a social life. I did manage to find time for friends and family parties and even time to go out occasionally.

Everything was coming up roses, as they say – until it wasn’t. In January, my maternal grandfather was admitted for end-of-life care. His hospitalization occurred during the same time I was writing first term exams. On exam day, I wrote the test, visited my grandfather at the hospital, and headed back home to study for the next one. I have no idea how I managed to hold it together, getting by on nothing but the knowledge that he would have wanted me to. My Pop passed away about a week after the term ended, and though it was expected, it in no way lessened the pain of losing him. He was, and always will be remembered as, one of the most beloved and respected people in my life. He would have been proud to know that, in spite of the difficulty of losing him, of having to write exams while he was living his last days, I again achieved the best grades in the computer studies class.

The second term started about a week later. I got back to my routine of daytime classes, nighttime work and study, and spending time with friends and family on weekends. Six months after my grandfather’s death, my brother picked me up one evening after my shift at the department store to tell me that our father had died. My grandfather's death, while very painful, was expected. My father's death was an absolute jolt. We knew he wasn't well. He suffered from Huntington’s disease and had gone through a gradual deterioration since his diagnosis. Though we were aware that the disease would eventually kill him, we expected that he would live a few more years and continue his decline until the end. We were not expecting that he would have a massive heart attack at 52 years old.

A day or two after his death, my mother suggested that I sing at my father's funeral. I had never sung in public before. My only crooning had come at parties with family and friends strumming guitars and usually only after a few wobbly pops. It didn't matter that I was told I had a beautiful voice. I never had the confidence to match. My family knew this. My aunt's immediate reaction to my Mom's suggestion was that she thought it was a bad idea, that she didn't think I could hold myself together long enough. She all but insisted that I not do it.

Her utter lack of faith in me had the opposite effect as she intended. I said yes. I was going to sing at my father's funeral, and nobody was going to tell me that I couldn't. Well, guess what? I did it, and I nailed it! I held back the tears, and I didn't miss a note. Needless to say, after I was done and safely back in my seat, I fell apart. The sadness of losing my father, mingled with the joy of knowing how proud he would be, swelled in my eyes and flowed like a river of emotions.

Due to the shock of my father’s death and the lingering pain from the loss of my grandfather, I decided to take some time off the course to work on my grief. I informed the college and was told to take as much as needed. I went back a couple of weeks later, worked extremely hard to catch up, and am happy to say that I did. Two months later, when the final exams were completed and the results posted, I graduated with top grades in the course and was presented with the "Award of Excellence" for Computer Studies.

One thing I learned about myself from that year is that I can do anything when I have to. I still have a confidence problem that stems from childhood, so I will never be comfortable trying new things or putting myself out there in public. I will always choose the easy route when available, not borne from laziness but from fear that I may not be good enough. However, when I'm pushed to do something or told that I can’t, I will. I will prove my detractors wrong and learn a little more about myself in the process.

If given a choice, I will relax in the comfort of my beach. I will dig just deep enough to make a sandcastle and show you the jewel of my fun-loving heart. If the need arises when I have to dig deeper, I will. I will shovel past the dirt of others' opinions of me and lack of faith in myself and blast into the rock that protects my self-doubting soul. I will find my hidden diamond, dust it off, polish it up, and show you the brilliance that lies within.