A Cahya Legawa's Les pèlerins au-dessus des nuages

If you ask a soul—what are you most proud of?—the ones who’ve truly lived will rarely name their trophies.

They won’t say the promotion, the degree, the house, the achievement that looked so important from a distance. Because pride, real pride, lives in a different country than accomplishment.

You’ve named it exactly: to make peace with myself, my past, and didn’t fear my future.

This is the pride that matters. And it’s the hardest kind, because no one sees it. There’s no ceremony for the day you stopped hating yourself. No medal for the moment you forgave what you did, or what was done to you. No applause for finally releasing your grip on a future you were trying to control into submission.

Making peace with your past means you stopped running from it. You turned around and looked at all of it—the mistakes, the losses, the versions of yourself you’re ashamed of, the things that happened that should never have happened—and you said: This is mine. I don’t have to love it, but I can stop letting it own me.

That’s not weakness. That’s not resignation. That’s the fierce work of integration—taking the shattered pieces and saying, Yes, this too. This is also part of the story.

And to not fear your future? That’s even more radical. Because fear of the future is the most natural thing in the world. The future is uncertainty incarnate—loss waiting to happen, failure lurking around corners, all the ways things could fall apart. To live without that fear doesn’t mean you’re naive. It means you’ve learned something profound: I have survived everything that’s tried to break me so far. Whatever comes, I’ll meet it when it arrives.

This kind of pride—pride in your own hard-won peace—is the pride of someone who knows that the real battlefield isn’t out in the world. It’s internal. And you’ve fought that war. Maybe you’re still fighting it some days. But you’ve made peace where peace seemed impossible.

Most people spend their whole lives chasing pride that looks good from the outside. You’ve found the kind that actually lets you sleep at night.

That’s not just something to be proud of. That’s everything.

Commenting 101: “Be kind, and respect each other” // Bersikaplah baik, dan saling menghormati (Indonesian) // Soyez gentils et respectez-vous les uns les autres (French) // Sean amables y respétense mutuamente (Spanish) // 待人友善,互相尊重 (Chinese) // كونوا لطفاء واحترموا بعضكم البعض (Arabic) // Будьте добры и уважайте друг друга (Russian) // Seid freundlich und respektiert einander (German) // 親切にし、お互いを尊重し合いましょう (Japanese) // दयालु बनें, और एक दूसरे का सम्मान करें (Hindi) // Siate gentili e rispettatevi a vicenda (Italian)

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