Today’s Q&A is about pressure. As in… why I’m putting so much pressure on myself. And like most questions, it’s tightly wound with other questions, primary in this case is “Who cares?” 

If I never write or publish another poem in my life… who cares? 

If I don’t blog anymore… who cares? 

If I quit the lit mag… who cares? And…

Should a good life be so hard won?

Is that what the dream has become? 

Maybe there are a few people who care, but the biggest factor, I think, is me, myself, and I. The quintessential id, ego, and superego. 

I think part of the problem is that somewhere along the way my expectations for myself have increased. My brain was reprogrammed during my MFA that publishing was the goal. And it is a great goal, but it’s not the only goal and it’s certainly not the ultimate goal. 

Granted, many people who get MFAs are teachers who will benefit greatly from publications and the degree itself. They will have more to put on that glorious CV and look like a great candidate for a raise or promotion. I’m definitely not speaking from experience here because I’m not connected to the academic scene at all except for having quite a few writerly acquaintances who are teachers and profs. So this assessment of need is second hand. 

It does nothing for me professionally unless I decide to throw my hat in that collegant ring. Which I would never do because that would be like a level of Hell undiscovered by Dante. No disrespect… just mad props for all those poor souls. It’s just not me. (Thank the Universe I know that without finding out the hard way!) 

Anyway, so why would I care so much about being published? Where does that pressure come from? Sure, it feels great to get that recognition, but the actual recognition is so small and short lived. It’s like stopping to smell the roses for one second. Then everybody, myself included, goes back to the regularly scheduled programming. Blink and the moment is gone. 

I also think I put pressure on myself because I’m comparing myself to others. That’s just crazy town, people. Don’t do that. It’s the fastest way to feeling shitty about yourself. 

I’ve got my finger on the pulse of the lit mag scene and there are some names I see pop up all the time. Yes, because they are being published so they are probably excellent writers, but some also run lit mags and participate in workshops and, good gravy, even join the dev teams that are doing cool shit in the industry. 

It makes me wonder what kind of drug these people are on to have all that going on. When do they sleep? 

It also makes me angry because I’m comparing myself to those people and it makes me feel like I’m not doing enough, I’m a failure. I don’t want to be angry or feel that shitty about myself. But I can’t ignore those names. Unless I disconnect. 

I suppose the healthy thing to do would be see it and let it go, meditate it away with some personal mantra… you are worthy, you are doing good in the world, you are enough just the way you are. 🕉️

It’s just tough. 

My time is running out. I need to wrap and haven’t found the answer to my question yet. 

Unless the answer is just to stop trying so damn hard, stop for longer to smell those roses, and then gift myself some grace. 

In other words, just stop… with all the pressure. Easier said than done. Ha! 

Ok, times up. Thanks for reading. 

Peace and love,

~Miss SugarCookie 

PS. Today’s post is brought to you by the song “Halfway There” by Soundgarden…

I woke up with my feet nailed down and my head moving the speed of sound
Had a dream I was caught in a maze and I couldn’t find my way back out

Some were born to move mountains around and some to rot away in jail
I get an itch and when I am scratching everything can go to hell

And how far is halfway there? I didn’t see you on the trail
Did almost become good enough? Should a good life be so hard won?
Is that what our dreams have become?

Sometimes when you’re shooting an arrow it can fly across the sky so proud
I would go all the way to the sun if I didn’t have to come back down

And how far is halfway there? Didn’t see you on the trail
Did almost become good enough? Should a good life be so hard won?
Is that what our dreams have become?
Have become, yeah

Have you got a car and somewhere to sleep?
Someone who loves you? Something to eat?
I would say you’re doing better than most
Though maybe not as well as some

And how far is halfway there? I didn’t see you on the trail
Did almost become good enough? Should a good life be so hard won?
Is that what our dreams have become?
Is that what our dreams have become?