Learning to Say “I’m Proud of Me” through homeschooling my kids.

Listen… today I had one of those parenting moments that hits in the chest. Not the milestone moments, no birthdays, no major accomplishments, no life lesson. The ordinary magic moments that show you the work you’re doing is actually landing.

Langston drew a Sonic picture....just him, markers, and confidence! The confidence kids naturally have before the world tries to crush it. When he was done, he walked right over to the fridge, posted his artwork like he was hanging it in a damn gallery! I mean he was even being picky about the magnets he was using and said:

“I’m proud of myself.”

And he meant it! No looking for my approval. No people pleasing. No performing. No waiting to hear, “Good job.” Just pride! And I swear… I felt my world shift a little.

Teaching My Kids What I Was Never Taught

I’ve spent years trying to give my kids what nobody ever handed me: intrinsic motivation. I want them to love the work they create because it’s theirs and its DOPE AF. To feel that internal spark. To build confidence from the inside out.

But here’s the part I don’t talk about enough is while I was teaching them that, I had to learn how to give that same shit (Compassion and affirmation) to myself which was/is an whole emotional journey for me.

But here’s the part I didn’t understand until way later: even when I looked confident ... loud, strong, showing up like I had it all together... it was performative as hell. I was chasing approval while pretending I didn’t need it.

I built a whole identity around being “the strong one.” The capable one. The one who could take the hit and keep it moving. I just wanted someone to say, “I see you. You did good.” I had to break up with external validation.

I had to start saying out loud:

“I’m proud of me.”

And honestly? That’s been a whole damn revolution.

Our Kids Are Watching How We Love Ourselves

Langston hanging that picture wasn’t just a cute moment but it was a mirror. It showed me that the work is actually working. It was authentic pride. Real joy.

Real self trust. Not the manufactured “look at me I’m fine” energy I survived on.

Kids don’t just absorb what we say. They absorb what we do.

When I talk to myself with more kindness…When I celebrate my small wins instead of brushing them off…When I show them what it looks like to stand tall in your own growth…They learn that self pride isn’t arrogance. It’s survival. It’s liberation. It’s the kind of emotional inheritance our kids deserve.

This Is What Generational Healing Looks Like

Watching Langston claim his own pride felt ancestral. Like undoing a lineage of “stay small,” “don’t make noise,” “humble yourself,” "take what is given to you" and “don’t outshine.”

Our kids get to shine without apology.

And today I finally let myself say it with the same energy he had:

I’m proud of me. Not for being perfect. Not for being loud. Not for performing strength I don’t even feel. I’m proud of me for choosing a different story.

And the wild part is, when you finally start being proud of yourself out loud, unhealed people will swear it’s arrogance. They’ll twist your self trust into ego because they’ve never seen confidence without performance. But that’s their wound, not my truth.

I don't have it all together. I’m NOT perfect. But I’m doing the deep, messy, decolonizing work that my kids get to benefit from.

That shit matters. That shit is powerful. That shit is healing generations.

And honestly? That Sonic picture on my fridge feels like a trophy for both of us.