The “piece” that broke me

Writing every day for the past three days reminded me of the piece that broke me in 2019.

I’ve always connected my feelings to my writing. I’d write my feelings rather than say them to you. Writing about it came naturally, talking didn’t. Writing is my crutch and I always gave all of myself to my words.

In 2019, through a mutual contact, I got booked to do a piece on a subject I am passionate about and I choose the topic myself. I felt validated and seen. After a couple of back and forth, it fell through.

I failed.

It’ll take me many weeks to look at anything I had written again, months before I wrote anything again and I’ve realized it’s taking longer to build my confidence again.

The rejection wasn’t special or unique. If you ever dare to write for an audience outside yourself even an audience of one, you’ll get knocked down occasionally or more.

What happened to me?

I let my sorrow become my anchor. Don’t do that.

I took the rejection as a rejection of me rather than the thought process that I had put out. The fact that I wrote those words and was willing to share them meant that they did not define the entirety of who I am, just an extension. I forgot.

I was breaking and did not let myself get broken. Breaking is uncertain, broken can be good. It leaves you with nothing to grasp onto and you can get to the business of fixing yourself.

I finally broke and now, I am on a 30-day writing journey to fix myself. It’s 4 days down with 26 to go!