I’m having a quaint get-together with co-workers at my house this evening and I’m having some serious anxiety about it. I don’t know what is wrong with me. Why can’t I just relax like everyone else and enjoy dinner with some really great people? Why can’t I? I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? Where does the needless worry come from anyway? This stupid social anxiety is all in my head. It’s real, don’t get me wrong, but it’s really just silliness.good grief!
As if one mental crisis were not enough.. I’ve finally pulled the trigger on submitting some poetry to a publisher today. I’m about two or three days past the deadline I set for myself on this one even though the deadline to submit isn’t until early August. I’m afraid filling out the info on the submission form, attaching a document, and hitting “send” is a set of actions that will also never get easier. There’s just so much second guessing. Are these the right poems? Are they good enough? I’m putting my heart out there you know and that’s a risk. I literally just sat at the computer for like an hour and a half going over the form fields and of course, the bio.
This publisher requires a bio written in 3rd person, which is to be 50 words or less. I have found that writing something like this will make one question their entire existence. I mean.. what can you say about yourself that is worth putting in a bio? Where you were born and where you live are easy cuz that’s just the facts. Then what? What is your whole life about?
What do you do? Gawd there’s not a question in the Universe I hate more than that. Do you say what you’ve done, what you like to to, what you aspire to do, or what your hopes and dreams are? I’m having an identity crisis, so Imma be like the magic 8 ball and say “ask again later”. I’m not sure they would accept that though.
And how about that pen name thing? I don’t even have a name I can use. Of course I have a name but in my current state of transition I’m torn. I can’t use my maiden name as I have not been that person since I was 19. I’ve had my married name for a very long time but that’s not who I am either. I mean, it is who I am but not who I’m going to be. Which begs the question.. who am I going to be?
When/if I get married I will most certainly take his last name. But I can’t think about that more now or my head will certainly explode. I just can’t even get into the whole marriage thing again now. By the way, that name may be great one day, as it is a kick-ass poets name, but I haven’t quite lived in that skin long enough to make it fit.
Do I use my Moniker/social media handle. “Shyspark”? I’ve had that since like 2010 and I suppose if one googled that they would find all roads lead to some blog post written by yours truly. Seriously though.. I’ve got like 4 WordPress blogs I have started throughout the years, 1 tumblr account, 1 blogspot account, facebook, instagram, Snapchat, and a few twitters. I’m clearly not bothered by throwing fluff out into the Wild. But “real” publishing is very intimidating.
Print is effing serious and I’ve just got so much doubt about who it is I want to be when I grow up. Print is like a permanent tattoo. It’s easier to have a constant identity crisis if you are not on public display. This is all in my head too, of course. On some level.. some rational, logical plane of existence, it doesn’t really matter. Life is what you make of it and what other peoples perceptions are should not hinder forward progress on whatever that is (unless you are a nefarious evil-doer). One could say “no risk, no reward”, but that’s not quite right anymore either is it?
There is NO risk because there is NO reward. “Reward” implies gaining something you want but if you don’t know what that is, then you’re not even halfway there. But isn’t that ok too? Because it’s about the journey right? I can travel twice as far and still not be halfway there. Wherever “there” is.
This is me trying to put rungs on a ladder in order to try and climb out of my own head. All this internal crisis management is exhausting. If you boil it down I suppose the essence is just a lot of doubt.
I am not this house and this house is not me. I’m not an extension of the house and it is not an extension of me. I’m not my fiancé or my children and they are not me. I’m not the jobs I’ve had or degrees I’ve earned or places I have traveled or people I’ve met and they are not me. I’m just me, doing the best I can with life, you know, and if i don’t know what the future looks like that’s ok. People will think what they think and that’s ok and people will like my poems or they won’t and that’s ok too. It’s all going to be OK.
That’s enough for today’s rambling on about what’s making me twitchy.
Until we meet again,