This is so true Wendy - rejection takes no account of who you are and what you’ve been through or are going through. It’s difficult and discouraging for anyone, but harder perhaps for some. Every rejection I ever had, and I had plenty, took me back to the unhappy years of my childhood, to feelings of deep unworthiness- it’s important to recognise the effects and to be kind to ourselves
Partly I think it’s because everything we write is a part of ourselves. We literally put parts of own experiences into our writing, so it always feels personal x
Yes - it's easy to say it's time to move on, harder to do. You're doing it and the courage it has taken to deal with that sadness and grief is now a part of you. Or so it seems to me. xx
This was in my inbox alongside not one but two rejection letters! But after reading what you had to say about rejection I felt much more positive about moving forward. Thank you, Wendy!
Ah thank you, Wendy, for this. When confronted by this or that literary rejection I try to say to myself “don’t take it personally, don’t take it personally….” But, of course, we do. I found your piece moving and cathartic.
Your post really spoke to me - about paper and how it accumulates, particularly sad paper. Recently I emptied a cupboard full of papers about our adoption breakdown (a story too long for this) - I couldn't do anything other than bag them up and put them in the attic. I know they are there, I know I want to deal with them but I also know it takes real strength to look at them and deal with all the feelings of that time and ongoing sense of deep failure.
'I still felt like I needed to hold on to it, as if I would need at some point to go back into battle again and fight to have policies changed.'
My story is not your story. My loss is not your loss. After twenty-one years and counting of chronic illness, medical misogyny, gaslighting, and ultimately the fragile balancing act of pain/fatigue vs. commitments which I now perform every single day; twenty-one years of that loss, that story, I felt this piece as an upward fight-or-flight hammer-blow to the diaphragm. I've no idea when I will be ready to tackle my own boxes of doom, but you have given me hope that the day will come.
You and I are more alike than I should be saying out loud.
X
Beautifully written and encouraging after receiving another rejection last night. Thank you
Thank you x
This is so true Wendy - rejection takes no account of who you are and what you’ve been through or are going through. It’s difficult and discouraging for anyone, but harder perhaps for some. Every rejection I ever had, and I had plenty, took me back to the unhappy years of my childhood, to feelings of deep unworthiness- it’s important to recognise the effects and to be kind to ourselves
Partly I think it’s because everything we write is a part of ourselves. We literally put parts of own experiences into our writing, so it always feels personal x
Yes - it's easy to say it's time to move on, harder to do. You're doing it and the courage it has taken to deal with that sadness and grief is now a part of you. Or so it seems to me. xx
❤️
This was in my inbox alongside not one but two rejection letters! But after reading what you had to say about rejection I felt much more positive about moving forward. Thank you, Wendy!
kudos, really beautiful writing.
Ah thank you, Wendy, for this. When confronted by this or that literary rejection I try to say to myself “don’t take it personally, don’t take it personally….” But, of course, we do. I found your piece moving and cathartic.
Thank you
Your post really spoke to me - about paper and how it accumulates, particularly sad paper. Recently I emptied a cupboard full of papers about our adoption breakdown (a story too long for this) - I couldn't do anything other than bag them up and put them in the attic. I know they are there, I know I want to deal with them but I also know it takes real strength to look at them and deal with all the feelings of that time and ongoing sense of deep failure.
sending love. It is not easy.
'I still felt like I needed to hold on to it, as if I would need at some point to go back into battle again and fight to have policies changed.'
My story is not your story. My loss is not your loss. After twenty-one years and counting of chronic illness, medical misogyny, gaslighting, and ultimately the fragile balancing act of pain/fatigue vs. commitments which I now perform every single day; twenty-one years of that loss, that story, I felt this piece as an upward fight-or-flight hammer-blow to the diaphragm. I've no idea when I will be ready to tackle my own boxes of doom, but you have given me hope that the day will come.
Thank you so much. I am sending strength to you x