Monday, September 26, 2005

A small rejection, must end that perfection...

So, on the heels of having 7 of my in-laws at my house during a hurricane, missing my much-needed scrapbooking retreat, and also being VERY hormonal this week (TMI, but it will explain this moody blog post, I hope), I got another little blow to my ego. It came in the form of a very short, form-letteresque email:

Dear Stephanie,
Thanks for your query, but it doesn't sound right for us at this time.
Best,
Sarah
So, the rejection was out there now. I'd tried and failed at getting my article publish by a major magazine. I was no Pulitzer Prizer yet to be discovered--something I already knew. But, one sentence? No reason as to why? No indication of anything at all? Not even a nice little padded sentence at the end for filler to kind of cushion the blow? I had heard that freelancing was a very hard business and you had to have tough skin. I guess I'd better stop using lotion now or I will never make it. This was my FIRST attempt and I'm so bummed out! (I know, I know. It was my FIRST attempt. But, this is where the perfectionist MomCat has some problems called "unrealistic expectations on self.")

I'd been told by my instructor and friends in the writing world that it takes many rejections to get a "connection." So, why then, did I set myself up for disappointment? Why did I go ahead and send it to a major national magazine, thinking really that they might take a chance on an unknown like me? My instructor had encouraged me to, but honestly who was I kidding?

Oh, my. I hear that pessimistic side of me creeping back into this blog...I'd better squish it flat. SPLAT! Darn, I missed...

Today has been a really melancholy day. That's the only way I know to describe it. Aside from really not feeling well (though unable to pinpoint why), I guess everything hit me. I tried calling to reschedule our retreat to find there is nothing available until the end of February. I re-read this rejection email that I'd pushed aside amidst company last week, looking for some clues as to what happened. I've not been sleeping well again, and I know this is a lot of my problem right now too.

After losing 5 pounds in about 3 weeks, my weight loss has stalled, but that's mostly because I have stalled. And, I'm back to feeling hopeless again. I'm back to feeling like I'm just an "almost" again, which is the feeling I hate the most (aside from one worse---feeling invisible). Almost successful at getting published, ALMOST able to lose weight and get fit, ALMOST able to handle my home and keep it running smoothly and clean, ALMOST cool enough to be the kind of friend you don't forget about and want to call up for lunch, ALMOST over the perfectionist tendencies, ALMOST self-confident (but not quite)... uh, ALMOST a blogger who doesn't depress the hell out of her readers? (shrug)

My whole life feels like I'm a hamster running in a cage and I can't ever reach my destination or get the wheels to stop turning. And, on days like today, I feel like one day I will just fall off and never be able to get back on again. I'm always playing catch-up. And, then I play "beat-up" (as in beating up myself for not being on top of it). So, it is a vicious cycle of me trying to stay caught up and failing, beating myself up for the person I am not, and then vowing to do better again. And, I'm just plain exhausted from it all. I'm getting to a point where everything feels numb. I know I should be worried about that, but I don't even have the energy to be worried. Am I depressed? Maybe. OK, probably. Is this something I can get past? That, I do not know.

All I know is, I'd like to have a week go by where I don't berate myself for not getting it done. I hope for a time when I can just sit back and feel happy with where I am in my life and what I have and feel on top of things. I want to feel happy and at peace, instead of tired and struggling to stay afloat. I'm tired of being frustrated with my life, when I've been given so much, and then berating myself for that frustration and for all that I have. There are days when I wish I could just sell my house and pricey cars and live somewhere small and quiet, give as much as I can to charity and helping others, and slow things down. Because I'm running out of steam and I'm worried what will happen if I crash and burn.

The wheel keeps turning, but my feet are moving slower and slower. What does this mean? And, most importantly, will I ever be able to make it stop?

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