Last night while lying restless in bed for the umpteenth time I had an epiphany: My life is perfect as it is. I can enjoy peace and serenity regardless of whether or not I publish my memoir. For the past five years, which is when I started writing it, I have conflated publishing success with self-worth and life satisfaction. I’ve equated my ability to find an agent and publisher with success and therefore happiness.
No, no, dear one—you are mistaken. You are precious just as you are. Your life is perfect just as it is. Relax and enjoy it.
This epiphany didn’t help me get to sleep. I got up and went into the guest room to think about it some more, hoping it would soothe me to sleep; but only laying in front of the space heater and soaking warmth into my bones did that. I woke up in a sweaty drugged-like stupor and stumbled back to my cool bed, nestled next to my husband, and slept soundly for the next several hours.
So here’s the truth—while my passion is to write and even to be published and read, those things are not the measure of my worth, nor the conditions of my happiness. Only through acceptance and appreciation of myself as I am today will I experience serenity and joy.
So here’s the truth—while my passion is to write and even to be published and read, those things are not the measure of my worth, nor the conditions of my happiness.
I will endeavor to remember this from now on whenever my envy of other writers’ successes rears its ugly head. I will congratulate them, as I always do on Twitter, remind myself of my blessings, and continue to work, letting go of the outcomes over which I have no control. Why drive myself crazy trying to force certain outcomes according to my will when that is impossible?
Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. The only things I can change are my attitudes. Serenity is my reward.