At my last job, I wanted to impress people. It was weird. I wanted to be recognized by the bigwigs at the top, sometimes desperately. The few times I got a nod, it made me happy and proud until it wore off, at which point I’d assume the quality of my work was for shit. It was an unpleasant cycle that relied on other people for my self-worth.

I don’t know what changed or exactly when, but here, at my new job, I’m not looking to please anyone. I want my boss to be happy with my work, sure. When she tells me “nice job,” I get excited because she’s good. If she were to say, “I need better copy from you,” I’d start reading every great author on my bookshelf. But I wouldn’t feel like less of a person…at least I don’t think I would.

I no longer need those accolades. I don’t have to have praise heaped upon me to know I tried or did a good job. It’s an unfamiliar sensation for someone who tried every day for years to earn what I saw as vindication.

It’s a feeling of healthy detachment, and it’s not really all that bad.