I used to look around the room, searching for familiar faces, hoping to see someone smiling for me—someone clapping for me. I used to wait for validation, for applause, for words of encouragement that never seemed to come. Whenever I achieved something, no matter how big or small, I would turn to them, expecting joy, expecting pride—but all I received was silence.
At first, it hurt. I questioned myself, my worth, my accomplishments. If no one clapped for me, did my achievements even matter? If no one noticed, was it still worth celebrating? The doubt crept in like a shadow, whispering that maybe I wasn’t enough—that maybe I needed to do more, be more, achieve more—just to be seen, just to be acknowledged.
But one day, I stopped waiting.
I clapped for myself.
I clapped so loud that my own hands echoed in my ears.
I clapped so loud that I drowned out the silence, the indifference, the lack of acknowledgment. I cheered for myself. I celebrated myself. And in doing so, I realized something important: I didn’t need their applause.
I stopped noticing everyone who wasn’t happy for me. I stopped noticing those who stayed quiet when I won, those who looked away when I shined. Their silence was no longer my concern because I had finally learned to be proud of myself without needing permission.
Every step I took, I clapped. Every milestone I reached, I clapped. Every victory, every lesson, every moment of growth—I clapped.
And with every clap, I became stronger. I became my own source of encouragement, my own supporter, my own loudest cheerleader.
Now, I no longer turn my head, searching for approval. I no longer dim my light just because some people refuse to see it. I no longer measure my worth by the noise of others.
I clap for myself, and that is enough.
