I remembered today why Dave didn’t want to do Level 4.

It wasn’t because he couldn’t.
It wasn’t because he wasn’t ready.
It was because he was finally alright.
He didn’t feel the need to chase another qualification just yet.
He was happy with himself.

And I think that’s one of the most secure relationships you can have with growth:
Not needing it to prove your worth.

I’ve learned a lot from Dave—even though we don’t really speak anymore.
Watching how calm he was in his decision, how he didn’t make a big deal of it, how he just chose what felt right for him—that stuck with me.

And now, looking back, I think I’ve been trying to prove myself through Level 4.
To say:
“Look. I’m healed. I’m capable. I’m worth something.”

But maybe I already am.

The truth is—I handled the rejection better than I expected.
And that’s not because I’m numb.
It’s because something deeper is settling inside me.
A kind of quiet knowing that maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to prove anything anymore.

And if I can let go of that urge—to prove, to earn, to perform—
I think my life will get a lot more fun.
That’s what I’ve been missing.

Even in things I love, like Jiu-Jitsu, I can feel that pressure to achieve, to be impressive, to win approval.
And it’s exhausting.
It turns joy into pressure.
Presence into performance.

But I don’t want to die having lived like that.

No one’s going to care how much I proved.
They’ll remember how I made them feel.
And whether I was really there in my life.
Or always trying to climb out of it.

Maybe this time, Level 4 didn’t reward my impressive qualities.
Maybe someone just looked at me and thought:

“Is he okay?”
“Is this the right thing for him, right now?”
“Maybe he needs a break to figure out who he is—outside of achievement.”

And maybe they were right.