He checked the account again.
Then again.
He put his phone down.
Picked it up.
Checked again.
The number was still there.
1,000,000.
His first million.
He had imagined this moment so many times.
For years, he had been waking up early, working late, saying no to things his friends were doing and putting almost everything back into what he was building.
There were months when things barely worked.
Months when he questioned whether he was wasting his time.
But he stayed.
He worked.
He learned.
He started again.
And now, there it was.
One million shillings.
He smiled.
Then his smile disappeared.
He opened WhatsApp.
He thought about sending it to the group.
“Guys, I finally did it!”
He typed it.
Deleted it.
Typed it again.
Deleted it.
What if they think I’m bragging?
One of his friends had been looking for a job for months.
Another was struggling with rent.
Someone else had just told him about a family problem.
How could he come into the group announcing that he had made his first million?
So he said nothing.
He thought about calling his closest friend.
Then he remembered how difficult things had been for him lately.
He didn’t want to make him feel worse.
So he kept quiet.
He went home.
His mother asked him how work was.
“Good,” he said.
That night, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the same account balance.
He had spent years dreaming about this moment.
Yet now that it had arrived, he didn’t know how to celebrate it.
He felt almost guilty for being happy.
And maybe that is something we don’t talk about enough.
Sometimes, we know how to sit with people when they are hurting.
But we don’t always know how to sit with them when they are winning.
We become afraid that our good news will make someone else feel bad.
So we hide our promotions.
We minimise our achievements.
We stop ourselves from celebrating because someone we love is still struggling.
But his million did not take away anyone else’s opportunity.
His success did not make his friend’s unemployment less painful.
And his joy did not need an apology.
He had worked for it.
He was allowed to celebrate.
Maybe you are carrying good news too.
A new job.
A business finally making money.
A pregnancy.
An engagement.
A degree.
A first house.
A dream that finally worked.
Maybe you have been keeping quiet because you don’t want to look like you’re showing off.
But perhaps there is another way.
You can celebrate your own progress while still having compassion for someone else’s struggle.
You can say, “I am grateful for what is happening in my life,” without saying, “I am better than you.”
And when someone you love wins, you don’t have to have everything figured out to celebrate with them.
Sometimes, we need to learn how to hold two truths at once:
“I am struggling.”
and
“I am genuinely happy for you.”
Both can be true.
So when your good news comes, don’t be so afraid of being misunderstood that you forget to celebrate yourself.
You’ve worked for this too.
And when your friend’s good news comes, celebrate with them.
Their light does not make yours any dimmer.