I had one job today and I failed. And no matter what I do now, no matter what happens for the rest of this day or the next or the rest of the time I live in this house.. every time I see the result of that mistake I’ll be reminded. It’s such a trivial thing in the grand scheme but c’mon people. I feel like I can’t do anything without making mistakes lately.
I just got back from Austin. 4 days of well balanced rest and relaxation where I should have been able to get my mind right. But I feel like I failed at that too. Sure, I let go and had a nice time and got into some good conversations but for some reason now that I’m back I missed my opportunity to really get something out of it. I just swept all my angst under a proverbial rug and today it’s like I lifted the rug to toss it in the washer and was disgusted to discover all that mess is still there.
I think I will continue to look for a therapist. I think I should continue to put effort into figuring out what is wrong with me that I can’t just be happy with what I’ve been given.
Maybe it’s because I don’t take hand-outs and feel as if I don’t deserve the gifts I’ve been given. Why do I think if I haven’t earned it or paid some price, I don’t deserve this goodness. Worse yet, why do I think I’m on a train that’s not bound for solution town? That I’m just stuck here with no way to actually fix what is wrong with me.
It’s mental. It’s physical. It’s emotional. It’s exhausting.
Today of all days I should feel exhilarated. I should be over the moon that the book I worked so hard on and have waited so long for is finally.. FINALLY.. available for pre-order. But no.
(Dropping the link here for anyone interested in this so-called book: Unsuspecting Cinderella. Don’t wait, order your scintillating copy today!!)
Instead I’m grumpy at myself and life. I don’t even want to open the 7 (yes, seven) emails I received from the publisher with all the info I need to promote my book. I mean, I’m just guessing that’s what they are all about. Maybe I’m just terrified. Which makes no sense, but sometimes humans don’t make sense.
Last week before I left for Austin I hit the goal to end all goals with regards to my submissions. 100!! 🎉🎉🎉
And with that I told myself that was it. I headed to my home away from home and let it go. I was letting it go and truly going to try and ignore all the of that for the duration and of the week, month, and maybe even the year.
Seven rejections later and I’m so tempted to pick it back up again. It’s like an exercise in futility.
Last month I became obsessed with compiling not one but two more chapbooks and a full manuscript with my mountain of poems. I worked fervently for a couple of weeks and felt, wait for it.. HAPPY doing what I was doing. It made me excited and hopeful and looking forward to the next day when I would wake up and get back to work.
When I was finished and satisfied with my work, I did some research and wrote cover letters and submitted them to a few publishers. That was also neat and made me feel like I had accomplished something, however not quite at that same level.
So far I’ve had one publisher reject both my chapbooks and that’s kind of shitty because it happened so fast. It made me feel like they didn’t even have time to read, contemplate, and compare. They just took my money and said “thanks but no thanks.” So dumb.
Anyway so maybe it’s the rejection that’s got me down or the fact that I haven’t been able to write anything new for a while now. All I have is the same pile of poems from my MFA that i continue to work over in different ways.
Maybe I need to jump into some workshops or a class or something. Maybe I need to do something that gives me more of a sense of a purpose than grocery shopping, dishes, and exercise all day. What am I doing with my life??!!
Am I getting somewhere or going nowhere? I need to figure this out but right now I’m outta time. I gotta go cook dinner. Cuz, real life.
Like they say in the biz “put a pin in it” and we’ll come back to it later. Maybe.
Never ever my own but forever and always completely yours,