When it Doesn't Go As You Imagined

It’s been over a year since I left my job. Leaving was a leap of faith. It was an investment in me and my dreams.

But, it hasn’t been the year I imagined. Far from it.

I had imagined this as the year I got my ish together. I’d find clarity on my career path. I’d establish healthy routines. My writing dreams would take flight, and family and friends would be there for it all.

Instead, I’ve been treading in the deep end of grief, mental health challenges, and heartache.

I struggled; caught in the tug-of-war between what this year was supposed to be and what it actually was. And the more I struggled, thinking “it wasn’t supposed to be this way,” the worse the struggle got.

Therapy has taught me that we can’t “win” the tug-of-war playing in our minds. Instead, we can remove ourselves from it, becoming a by-stander able to move forward. So, I removed myself from the tug-of-war, and as a by-stander, I could see the situation objectively. I recognized that to end the struggle I was caught in, I needed to surrender to the truth of what this year, and my life, actually was.

It hurt. Big time.

But it was the only way forward.

It took months to accept everything that had happened this year. It took months to accept everything I had lost. It took months to find a way to see myself in this new chapter in life. It took months to think about what that meant, and what it would look like, to move forward from here. From this place. Now. Not from where I thought I’d be.

I had to acknowledge, and accept, the loss. The actual losses, and the loss of what I had imagined.

I had to grieve before I could dream again.

I’m not alone in these struggles, and when we are in the depths of despair, finding hope is hard, but necessary. So, this is me sharing hope. Because I’m finding my stride again. The pain and grief is still here, but I am better at carrying the weight. I’ll face mental health challenges my whole life, but now I understand them for what they are, not for what my brain tells me they are. And I’m writing, from a place of heartache, but also from a place of joy. And maybe the best part is that I’m damn proud of what I’ve written and what the stories mean to me. In spite of it all, there has been hope in the writing, and someday, I hope to share that writing with the world. 

Important note: none of what I’m sharing is professional or medical advice. This is only what worked for me. Please seek professional help if you need it. I did, and it’s a normal thing to do. We’re not meant to get through life alone, and there’s always someone out there who can help. <3

1. Accepting What Is*
Whatever has happened can be unfair and still be true. Accepting what actually is was the first step in moving forward. This doesn’t mean approving or agreeing with what happened, but it means we acknowledge and surrender to the truth, instead of fighting it.

2. Acknowledging the Grief*
Grief is a response to loss, and there are many kinds of losses and types of grief. Recognizing what you’re grieving (death, life stages, relationships, pieces of identity, anticipatory grief, etc) can help you understand what you need, and allow yourself to feel the pain. As awful as it is, feeling the pain is part of healing.

3. Giving Grace*
Everyone experiences grief differently. Your unique needs are valid. There’s no “deadline.” There’s no “getting over it.” Try your best to ignore those unhelpful platitudes and focus on what you need. 

4. Deciding on Forward*
The only thing we can control in life is our actions. Moving forward is a conscious decision. It is a choice. When we decide it’s time to move forward, whatever that looks like for us, we are empowered. 

The * On Steps 1-4: Ask For Help
You are never alone. You’re not expected to get through hard things alone. Help has many shapes; family, friends, larger community, licensed professionals, therapy, medication, etc. Every step of the way, in every life stage, getting help is normal. If reaching out to a licensed professional is too hard on your own, ask a trusted friend or family member to assist. There’s no shame in getting help. There’s only life to gain. <3

Another reminder: none of this is professional or medical advice, this is only what worked for me. Please seek professional help if you need it. 

Redefining Success

With award lists and contest announcements, a flurry of new book deals and agent signings, there’s conversation in the writing community regarding “success”. What does it mean to be a successful creator? How do you know when your book is a success? 

Defining success or wondering how we know we’re successful isn’t unique to the publishing world, of course. I thought about this too much in my previous life in the tech industry. It’s a topic most of us think about (and maybe obsess over) our whole lives. 

Maybe you, like me, have found yourself saying, "If I can just achieve this one thing, or get to this one place, I'll be happy. I'll have made it. I'll feel fulfilled." 

And maybe you, like me, found that when you reached the goal you thought would make you happy, it never really did make you happy. When this happened to me, I felt a temporary high that I thought was fulfillment. But once that flash-in-the-pan achievement-high faded (and it often faded quickly), I felt empty again. So, I’d make up a new goal that I was certain this time would be the marker of success and happiness.

My husband and I celebrating my bucket list achievement with dole whip :)

Enter the term “moving goal post.” 

When I first thought about writing as a career, I was convinced that once I had that elusive book deal life would be a fairy tale from then on. Obviously, right? In a lot of ways, that belief fueled my progress. It was the promise of something better, something more aligned to my values.

Then a funny thing happened, which led to two epiphanies. 

In January, I achieved a big bucket list goal (not writing related). For the first time, instead of feeling like I had to set another goal immediately after achieving one, I felt happy. I felt at peace. I felt content. I’ve never felt that way after achieving something. Why? Epiphany One: Most of the goals I’ve chased before weren’t aligned to my values, and as a result, I would move the goal post after the flash-in-the-pan high went away.

Aside from a small group of people, no one knew I accomplished this bucket list goal. I thought about posting pictures and mentally planned the accompanying caption, but I realized I didn’t need to share this with anyone. This was an achievement and moment just for me. And that felt damn good. Epiphany Two: Validation from myself is the true marker of success (instead of valuing perceived markers of success, which are often externally driven or visible, like a job title or award).

All of this reminded me of one of my favorite quotes from the amazing movie, Cool Runnings:

“A gold medal is a wonderful thing, but if you're not enough without it, you'll never be enough with it.”

As it relates to my writing, the “gold medal” is publication, best sellers, a wildly successful series… but as the quote says, if I’m not enough (or my writing isn’t enough) without those things, it won’t matter what “success” bar I reach. The goal post will keep moving as I try to chase “enough.”

Taking a cue from the bucket list epiphanies, I’m redefining success for myself as a writer so that I am enough right now. Creative expression is one of my values. Not awards or book deals or contest wins. It’s writing. It’s story. With that in mind, success for me means writing what I want to write, finding joy in that journey, and loving what I write regardless of what anyone else thinks. If writing is first and foremost for me, it will always be a success. 

Don't get me wrong. The career I want to build is 100% as a prolific traditionally published author, but knowing my writing is enough takes the pressure off my dream. It takes pressure off the illusion of time being limited to achieve my dream. It takes pressure off the words I write and the things I'm doing to further my dreams so that I can create from a place of peace and joy.

This doesn’t mean I don’t feel disappointment, frustration, or heck, even some hopelessness when I get rejected or something doesn’t go quite my way. What it means is disappointments and successes don’t define my worth as a creator. I’m the only one who can define that. And I choose to believe that my writing is enough even if I never reach my gold medal writing dreams.

That, my friends, feels like success to me.