It’s no secret, I’ve been in an emotional and mental funk the last couple of weeks. I have had good days, and tried to post about those more than I posted about the bad ones, but the fact remained; I was struggling.
I had to talk myself into burning a bridge that I didn’t really want to burn. I knew it would be in my best interest, but I was hesitant. I remembered how I felt a couple years ago when I decided to burn several bridges all at once. I remembered the freeing feeling. I wrote Chasm about this experience, and I remembered how powerful I felt as I wrote that post back then. I needed that in my life again. I needed off the roller coaster I had once again found myself on.
So I burned the bridge. I was sad about having to do it, but I saw no choice. How much of the roller coaster ride was my own doing this time around has yet to be determined. But regardless of the cause, I needed for it to end.
I woke this morning determined to conquer the day. And as I navigated the shitstorms at work, I felt more and more powerful, more and more myself. As I said in a previous post, I’ve been listening to a station of several bands that I saw back in December of 2019, and I opted to listen to the most recent album from Fire from the Gods today. They’re of the rap/rock genre, with a reggae feeling that makes it feel good. It was definitely what I needed, as the speak of digging down and finding determination despite the odds.
I drove home after work having solved many of the problems that had arisen this week, and I felt pretty decent. I had gone shopping for some items needed in the office at work, and found some items for my own desk area at home. I was excited to get the items set up. I had decided that I was going to stay home this weekend and concentrate on my writing, and on myself. What that meant I didn’t know yet, but I knew I needed some time to myself to think and do some self observation.
To my surprise, a letter had come while I was at work that I wasn’t expecting for several days, finalizing some things I have had in the works. That was in and of itself a bright spot, knowing that I was accomplishing things.
I sat down and ordered dinner for Matthew and J, and talked with Grandma. Our paths only cross briefly during the week, and I usually seclude myself in my room or am busy with the kids or on the phone with Sophia. So, we had some catching up to do.
I went to check my email to find the confirmation of the subs I had ordered for us and found the biggest surprise in the world. . .
A submission I had sent out to an online company had been accepted, and I was going to be published in September.
“What the fuck is this?” I mumbled as I opened the email from the odd sender. And then as I scanned it, I jumped up from my kitchen chair. “Holy Shit! Holy Shit!” I exclaimed, and my mouth dropped open.
“What???!” Grandma exclaimed.
“I had a submission accepted! I’m going to be published! Holy shit!”
As I scanned the rest of the email, I explained the different things I have in the works in the writing world to Grandma.
“See. This is what you wanted to do, and now you’re doing it. Good for you!”
It felt good to have her say that. To have her encouragement and vote of confidence.
I called Sophia and text Emma and Oliver. All were excited for me. As I sat talking on the phone about it to Sophia after dinner, I got the urge for a drive and for company.
“Do you feel like company?” I asked her. “I’ll need your help with invoicing and reading over this contract. I’m not good at all the legal jargon.” She said that in turn I could help her with a project she was working on, and so I grabbed Rosalyn and headed out there.
We sat out in her sunroom in between projects, and I related the conversation I had with J at dinner.
I had explained to him and Matthew that I was going to have a piece published on this website, and in turn explained to J about the article writing I’ve been doing.
“So, you could like. . . be a writer,” he said as he ingested the information.
“Well, I mean. . . I kind of already am.” I told him.
At this point in the telling of the story, I looked at Sophia. ‘Dude, I’m a writer. Like, for real now. I’m going to be published. With my name, with my words about something that matters to me. I’m really fucking doing it.” She hurriedly looked away.
“Sorry. I got tears.” and she wiped at her right eye.
That was probably the most touching thing I’ve ever witnessed. My friend was so happy for me she was moved to tears. But the words from Matt and J, from Emma and Oliver, from Grandma. . . Those were important, too.
These are the people who remind me every day that I am loved, and that I am valued. There’s no roller coaster with them. In fact, they keep help keep my feet on the ground, but encourage me to reach for the stars.
I helped Sophia with her project, and she helped me with the invoicing and contract stuff. We made a trip to the store, and laughed and joked through the evening, as we always do.
Realizing that it was awful late, and our projects completed for the evening, I packed up Rosalyn and headed home. Fire from the Gods reminded me who I am as I drove through the night.
“Giving up ain’t an option
But I’ll take what I’m given. . .
I’m not built to collapse
I won’t lay down and die.”
Now I sit here, after midnight, knowing I should go to bed. I’m too wound up to do so, though. So I thought I would update you all on my progress. I have enquired how to post the published piece to my blog, and will do so if I am allowed to. If not, keep an eye on the Facebook page in September.
I’ve encountered a lot that threatens to try and bring me down, and I’ve felt near collapse quite a bit these last couple weeks. But between my friends, me smashing my goals, the music that accompanies me through life, and my art I manage to over come. Indeed, I am not built to collapse.