How To Live A Good Story, Just Write

Failing On MY OWN Terms, DAMMIT!

Warning: I’m about to dump a bunch of raw words into your feeds, but I really need to throw my intentions out into the ether, you know, to make sure that shit sticks.

Leaving

Okay, now that the straights are gone, I can open up and speak a couple of truths, and if you're still here, thank you!

I walked away from my “dream job” a year ago: A position that allowed me to financially support our household, while GarthNHRN and I continued to help care for our handicapped parents.

I turned my back on people (team members/friends) who trusted me to do my job well: I still feel real shitty, even after calling my team (in tears) to let them know I was resigning that evening, each of them reassuring me that they "get it" and proving to be perfect examples of what it means to be good humans, ending the call with words of encouragement, because there is nothing worse than losing control of your own failure.

I spent most of yesterday re-working my resume (AGAIN!): To make it all clean and shiny and help me stand out among the hundreds of others submitting theirs for positions I'm applying to, as well.

The number of emails in my "rejections" folder is growing: Currently, I've received 13 (that's 1 rejection per month since leaving my job) not counting the number of submissions and follow-up emails that still remain unanswered.

On the one hand, I get it: Learning how to fail is THE HARDEST life lesson, isn't it? 

On the other hand, I still feel real shitty: There's a thin veil between moving passed an unsuccessful situation and allowing failure to define us.

WHICH IS WHY WHAT I'M ABOUT TO PUT OUT INTO THE ETHER IS LITERALLY SCARING THE EVER LIVING WORDS OUT OF ME!

Oldest girl (getting home from work, walking into my office, and finding me hunched over a keyboard): What'cha doing?

Me: Updating my resume, AGAIN!

Her: You should be writing your book.

Me: Everyone (and their Mother) is writing a book.

Her: Yeah, but they're not writing YOUR book. 

Me: Who would read it?

Her: Me, my friends love your writing, a lot of people think your words are inspirational, and you have a story to tell, right Heather?

Middle girl (passing through to use the bathroom): What?

Oldest girl: Mom's book.

Middle girl: Oh, yeah, JUST WRITE IT, ALREADY!

So, I'm filing this post under "Who's Parenting Who" and setting a daily reminder to "JUST WRITE IT, ALREADY," because the fear of failure is pretty much like succumbing to defeat and I am NOT going to let THAT BITCH define me -- if I fail, IT WILL BE ON MY OWN TERMS, DAMMIT!

[rolls up sleeves, blows bangs out of eyes]

Moral of the Story: Intention-throwing is hard, man. 

Don't waste your time on shit that doesn't stick, or something like that, yo!

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