I have a rash
When I'm stressed, I get a rash. It's in an unfortunate spot, and it's red and itchy and embarrassing, but it's also as reliable as a Swiss clock. Even if I don't realize that I'm stressed out, or more likely, if I pretend I'm not, the rash will tell me. The rash never lies.
The rash is angry. It's bigger and redder than it's been in months, and it's telling me as loudly as it can: calm the fuck down!
Because I'm not calm.
I'm wound tight, tighter than the tightest thing you can imagine (I googled examples for the expression "wound tighter than [...], and it was disturbing).
Ever since the three boxes with my babies arrived 10 days ago, I'm feeling a bit crazy. Except, exchange 'a bit' with 'extremely', and 'crazy' with 'unhinged', and that's only scratching the surface of the truth.
This is my biggest dream come true. My Mount Everest. I've wanted to be an author for as long as I can remember, and I talked and thought and dreamed and obsessed about it for the better part of the last 3 years. And now it's here! I'm holding my babies in my hands!
For the first few days, the only emotions I felt were good ones: I was ecstatic, over the moon, on the highest high of my life. I felt fantastic! I was proud, and kept grinning stupidly for no reason, and jumped up and down all over the house, literally buzzing with too much energy. I never felt more alive!
Who cares that I would wake up in the middle of the night, unable to fall asleep for at least an hour, because the sheer enormity of what's happening was keeping my mind from resting? This was the time of my life!
Correction: this is the time of my life. It's amazing what's happening. I'm so happy and grateful - and scared. Turns out, even when your dreams come true, Fear is still a part of it all.
Yesterday I sold a copy to one of my co-workers, and it was a profound experience. Profound as in sweaty-palms, feeling-sick-to-my-stomach nerve-racking.
Up until just a few days ago, my new work colleagues didn't know about my writing (I think). They didn't know about my blog, or the articles (here is the latest), or my memoir chronicling the most painful (turning into the best time, no worries!) time of my life.
It was almost like having a real life (working in a hospital) and an imaginary one (being a writer), and it felt comfortable and safe to keep the two separated.
But they are separated no more. In an effort to be 100% myself and authentic and all that shiz, I've let my two worlds - real and imaginary - collide. And now they're starting to intermingle, and I have no idea how this is going to end, and it's scary!
It's just that I'm not one of them.
You know them: the go-getters. The successful ones. The people in the spotlight. The ones who are simply better than the rest of us: more successful, more glittery, more purposeful.
My upbringing did not prepare me to chase my dreams, particularly far-fetched ones. I was taught to work hard, to do what is expected, and to know my place. My place was supposed to be safely tucked away from the eye of the public, minding my own business, and making sure that other people didn't get involved in mine.
And what do I do? Turn around and write a story about my life.
So here I am: trying my very best to enjoy it all without freaking out too much. My mind tells me I'm doing pretty good, but my rash knows the truth: this is all quite overwhelming.
From the very beginning when I started to work towards this goal to write and publish my story, I was determined to take you all along and share everything: the good, the bad, and the rash.
Because I learnt from other successful people (about a gazillion times more successful than I'll ever be) that freaking out is normal, and that reaching your goal feels different that you'd imagined, and that the fear of failure never leaves.
If they wouldn't have shared that startling insight, I would feel like the most ungrateful, insane bitch right now.
But because they did (people like Jennifer Lawrence, Kate Winslet, Emma Watson, or Meryl Streep, who is Hollywood royalty!), I know that this is, apparently, all part of the process?
I'm still so happy, and grateful, and excited. This is amazing! In a week tomorrow I will visit my lovely old hospital and do a little book signing and visiting, and I'm looking forward to it so much!
Just know that under the smiling, ecstatic facade is still the same old weird girl who doubts herself too much - and has an angry rash in an unfortunate spot.
xoxo Miriam
Oh! I almost forgot!! I'm doing a pre-sale of the book on my blog right now! A signed copy and a customized bookmark are yours if you click here! (And order it, of course.)
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Vol. 51