Breaking Up with Pride: A Journey in Vulnerability
Let’s Talk About Pride
I almost didn’t write this post. Not because I didn’t have the words, but because pride had me convinced I had to be perfect before I even started.
I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a kid. My Aunt Diney and Uncle Warren gave me a journal when I turned eighteen, and I filled it cover to cover. Between 2018 and 2022, I wrote about starting a blog seventeen times. Seventeen. But I never hit publish. It’s 2025 now, and this is only my third post.
So, what stopped me? Pride.
Not the healthy kind of pride that makes you hold your head high. I’m talking about the kind that disguises fear as confidence. The voice that whispers, “If you can’t do it perfectly, don’t do it at all.” For years, I listened.
The funny thing is, pride doesn’t just show up as arrogance. It’s sneaky. It’s the single mom who won’t let anyone babysit because she doesn’t want to seem like she can’t handle it. The student who sits in class lost but won’t ask questions. The therapist (hi, that’s me) drowning in work but still saying, “I got it,” when I absolutely do not got it.
For a while, I thought my pride was protecting me. I told myself I was waiting until my writing was “good enough.” But the truth? Pride wasn’t protecting me, it was blocking me. Blocking growth, connection, and joy.
That’s the cost of pride. It builds a glass box: nothing gets in, nothing gets out. No risk, but also no progress.
When I finally let go, everything shifted. I started this blog. I started sharing my story on Instagram. I stopped waiting for the perfect moment. And nothing burned down. The world didn’t end. I just got to live my dream a little louder.
I’m not gonna lie, I’m still working on it. Just last week I almost gave myself a concussion trying to hang a picture in my office instead of asking for help. But each time I choose vulnerability over pride, I feel power.
So here’s my question for you: What has pride stopped you from doing? And more importantly, are you ready to let that go?
