It’s become very apparent to me that the older you are the less praise you’re going to get. When you’re 3 and you paint a picture outside the lines, they give you gold stars. When you’re 10 and you score a goal, they take you out for ice-cream. But when you’re 17 and struggling to fit in, no one gives you a hug just for making it through the day. And when you’re 23 and pulling long hours at the office, no one asks if you’re alright. And you start to wonder if you are, if there’s a point to any of it. The answer is yes. Because good work, real good work that shapes your character, doesn’t need to be acknowledged. You grow in the silences, in the reflections, in the inhales and exhales that let you know you’ve made it from one moment to the other.
