Those words have been haunting me all day

Those words have been haunting me all day.

They're not particularly harrowing words on their own, in fact, they are quite the contrary - affirming, validating, smile making. I spend hours and hours and hours and years of my life pouring my soul, my spirit, my skin, my blood and my tears (sometimes literally) into my writing. It is my release, it is the way that I pick at the layers - sometimes flaky, buttery, and delicious - but often times grimy, scabbed over, and moist (yes I went there) - that surround my core and my centered self. It is how I burrow through blocks and explore my inner and outer demons. I write out my alternate universes, my deepest conflicts...

With that in mind, who wouldn't want to hear such a statement?


This morning, my self-doubt got a serious smacking with it. I heard it as a reprimand - I got it with a tinge of hurt and "really?"...from a dear friend, from a mentor, from an inspiration. My precarious self esteem around my own talents pushed one of its spindly limbs from the murky shadows of velvety darkness lurking, still, in the cobwebs of my soul. A low blow in the form of a story that didn't place in a contest (again...) elicited a low, gurgling wave of self-reprimand that trickled, apparently, into my conversation and set up a bivouac on the very ground where the heartstrings tug from. Given that I was prompted with two of my favorite criteria to work with (Drama, and a Family Pet), I thought I had this one in the proverbial bag. I was a little upset at the results - to be fair - and I think that I swallowed the sadness for the sake of having a productive couple of hours. Yet, one cannot swallow disappointment so easily around the art that leads my life and embodies my passion.

Yes, I write for my own healing and the healing of others. Yes, some of my writing is powerful and transformative and bends words until they go beyond their breaking point. Yes, sometimes I need a good kick in the pants, to remind myself of where I am.

So, this morning, as I carried my disappointment with me in its sad encampment in my heart into a beautiful and inspiring conversation - there it appeared. It was the one, incongruous statement that I took to heart, and swallowed into a still raw and vulnerable place. The one that was, probably, no...certainly not even related to me, but had to do with writing that I took as a personal insult....and I reacted, out of my fear.