Whenever the rebellious Mary pokes her head up, the judging Mary is never far behind. Before I am even concious of it, I condemn myself for not doing the things I should do, the things I want to do, the things that help make me my best self.
So, I sit in my favorite feeling bad for myself corner of the couch with my coffee and try to figure out what’s wrong. Here’s where I make the crucial choice. I sometimes continue down the path of questions like--What’s wrong with me? Why do I have such a hard time following through with things that are important to me?
This morning, the sadness and disappointment well up. I let them come. I don’t swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t ask questions of myself. I feel. I feel the weight in my shoulders, the pressure on my chest.
My agent submitted my book proposal ten days ago. I ignore the voice that says, “You expected an editor to just snap it up? You thought it was that good? Are you crazy, or stupid?
No, I’m not crazy. I’m not stupid. Yes. I thought it was that good. If I didn’t think it was that good, I wouldn not have spent the last three months of my life putting my heart, soul and time into researching and writing it.
I admit it. I’m disappointed. It hurts. The emotion washes through me.
Before I know it, I’m up from the couch. My bad mood is gone. The day stretches before me like a blank page. I don’t know what will be written, but it will be written well.