I love surprises, and what I learned yesterday definitely was a surprise.
Before the essay became Rejection 8, I read it to my counselor as proof that I'd taken her advice to write the “hard stuff” as a form of therapy. I had expected to read a few excerpts, but the more I read the better it felt to read this piece to the person who had been so instrumental to my healing and progress.
Yesterday, I read her another piece I was preparing to submit. Within the framework of this essay I was able to discuss with her how the writing had helped me clarify my feelings about a situation with which I have been wrestling.
We discussed Rejection 8 and how important it was for me to write those words. “I blacked out your name and have been sharing it with clients.”
I paused, breathing in her words.
“Thank you. This is fantastic! What an honor. My words are helping people. In this case, this is better than getting published.”
My counselor reaffirmed the potency of my piece and how it's helping people understand their circumstances. I am living my dream. I have actually accomplished the hard work of transforming my pain into something bigger than the burden I carried for so long.
I left the appointment and texted a friend. “My words are helping people.”
My friend didn't exactly write, “Duh,” but I know that's what she meant. Instead she told me that when I blog, my words “spread farther than you realize.” She also informed me that she uses my writing in a college course she teaches.
As I read her text, I felt waves of elation, humility, gratitude. I also felt tears prick my eyes.
This unexpected moment reinforced that what I've been saying I actually mean: I am writing because it is part of who I am. It brings me joy and healing and is a form of companionship with myself and my reader. When I say that I'm not writing to become famous, I have proof that I actually mean it. I am so honored to know that my counselor is using it as a tool for others who are finding their way.
This is what it looks and feels like to show up, do the work, and let go of the outcome.
“No part of our experience is wasted. Everything you've experienced so far is part of what you were meant to learn.” - Martha Beck
|I like the glow of my laptop in my glasses. Up too late doing what I love.|