I recognize it’s Thursday and I’ve missed the mark by three full days…but f*ck it.
This week, I want to give myself permission to grieve.
Grief is the uglier side of accomplishment and success. We rarely acknowledge it because we forget how difficult releasing old habits and facing the painful discomfort of change can be on the way to achieving our goals. It’s hard to accept that despite trying our best, we still fall behind and fail miserably. It’s hard to deal with the fact that we’d rather punch ourselves in the throat then force ourselves to do something we’ve been avoiding, or get hit by a bus than drag our “bikini” bodies to the gym.
It’s okay to admit that everything totally sucks a fat d*ck sometimes.
This week was particularly challenging for me, as it was filled with self-doubt and hit or miss job interviews, 3 a.m. I’m-not-good-enough meltdowns, and self-defeatist internal conversation. It was a week in which I bitterly avoided writing because, “I’M NEVER GOING TO MAKE IT AND THERE ARE NO CREATIVE JOBS YOU CAN GET WITHOUT EXPERIENCE, BUT I NEVER DID AN INTERNSHIP AND MY COVER LETTER CAN’T DO JUSTICE TO MY PERSONALITY, AND MY WORK IS SHIT SO I SHOULD GIVE UP.”
The struggle to pursue a creative career that provides a life with deeper meaning and distinct sense of purpose has at times left me drowning in resentment and dejection. I’m often confronted by the deeply demoralizing reality of pages and pages of rejection emails. While the first stinging five to ten are tolerable, everything after that becomes depressing resignation. Regardless, each time I’ll allow that same glimmer of hope permission to shine between cracks of cynicism, because what else can you do?
I recognize this is basically the opposite of motivating, and it’s rarely discussed outwardly in our mainstream conversation because it starts to sound so morose and pathetic.
So let me switch gears.
Trying and sometimes succeeding, while mostly failing to land writing jobs has been the ultimate measure of my resolve, resilience to rejection, and overall tolerance for being miserable.
That being said, I’m learning to be okay with the fact that in my experience, following my dreams is so f*cking hard. I could scream until my throat gets raw and still barely scratch the surface of the frustration and hopelessness I often feel when submitting my work time after countless time, only to receive another, “You’re not currently what we’re looking for.”
Still, I’ll willfully throw myself into that fire until someone likes what I’ve got to say and pulls me out. It doesn’t matter how many times I fail because this is what I love to do.
This week, I just want to say that occasionally fixating on your frustrations and disappointment with the current reality doesn’t make you depressing, inadequate, or a weak B*tch. In fact, it means you care about something enough to be genuinely affected by it. So f*ck it, if you want to be sad that you’re not totally killin’ it (whatever that means to you), then do it. Feel it and move through it, allow yourself to experience pain rather than pretend that your life isn’t engulfed in flames. At the end of it, pull yourself together and remember to give yourself street cred and a pat on the back for all of the SUPER AMAZING, AWESOME things you have accomplished. Accept that you’re going to feel shitty and defeated sometimes, and get back to the grind.