Especially the tried your hardest, hope-to-win, feel it in your gut, but still lost, kind of losing. Even more especially if you are someone like me, a purveyor of wins. I win! I get shit done! I stay focused on the journey despite the path.
Easy, because most wins are relative, that is, unless there is a prize involved. Then it is either you’ve got it, or you don’t. You won or you lost. It is black and white, not gray. Your prize is shiny and bright. It is embossed, polished, engraved, laden in gold or adorned by a ribbon in the firsts of primary colors.
Fall short of that and it’s, “Nice try.” “Better luck next time.” “Everything happens for a reason.” The pretend compassion that reeks of cliché-ick apathy. Or worst of all, the loudest of silent voices, “What in the hell were you even thinking?”
While most of my life’s wins fall under the subjective umbrella – still a win because the glass is half full kind of win, a recent loss really sucked! It was a blow that left me gasping for every breath in my depleted worth.
I must trace my steps back to my high school athletic endeavors to even get close to this feeling. In those days, losing produced a gut ache so painful that tears found their way down my cheek. Typically, it was my shallow perspective on a specific reason that produced the loss… missed the jump shot at the buzzer, put the wrong wax on my skis, or was just simply out played.
They were not losses at the core of my identity rather ones that ran along side of it. This loss lives much closer to the core of my identity. It was full-on rejection.
I attended a Writer’s Workshop and there learned of their writing contest. Top prize, a $10 GRAND advance and a publishing contract!! Yes, please!! The only prerequisites of the contestants; attend a writer’s workshop, be a writer, submit a book proposal, and sit back to wait for the bells to ring and confetti to fall. I was confident there was no possibility of losing.
Losing, failing and rejection are the masks of opportunity. Yeah, yeah, yeah… I mean, I have gotten where I am in life believing that, but it doesn’t take away the monumental punch in the gut that lies in their wake. If we are where we are because of where we have been, then tomorrow isn’t what it will be without yesterday. Deal and move on.
While the rejection left me feeling depleted I was not to be deterred. After some time and the replenishment of my self-worth, I jumped back in the deep end and didn’t look back.
To some, it is a bit of a stretch to think of me as a writer. I mean, it seems that you either have always been one, or you are not. I landed somewhere in the middle. Dating back to the days of writing for my college paper, I have always loved the spoken leverage in the written word. Its strength and power exist without interruption, without the risk of deaf ears or a closed mind.
Writing is where I find my voice, even if only for myself. If you are reading this now, then I don’t have to worry about whether you are listening, whether your phone will ding with some notification, or if it’s time to put the laundry in the dryer. If you are reading you are listening. Agree or not with the message, at least I have your attention.
