Memoir and Reflections, Writing


have you recently been kicked in the chest? Have you ever been slugged in the gut?

I only ask because I have become accustomed to these figurative injuries to my spirit lately. I can’t describe it any other way.

People have been writing about the universal topic of love and rejection for thousands of years. Writers know what it is to write about the tough side of love: rejection. Why do we love and why do we write? Both are pretty much guaranteed to result in that “being kicked squarely in the chest or the gut” feeling I have been feeling a lot over the past few months.

I don’t know why I delayed these experiences as long as I did? I can’t help but wonder how much farther along I would be in all this right now. Yes, I do know. Fear.

A bad first experience with a high school relationship with a boy soured me to putting myself out there in search of romance and love and it took me nearly ten years to open myself up again.

I am now in the midst of a grand burst of creative inspiration and ideas for things to write about. It must have built up in me until I had to take the leap. I waited so long and now I am in the midst of getting kicked in my torso somewhere by rejection after rejection.

It’s a strange minefield I am navigating now. The feelings of being rejected in love and through submitting my many pieces of writing are eerily identical.

Every single time a memory of my recent broken relationship pops into my head I feel the familiar kick in the gut. Yes, depending on the moment and the day: sometimes it’s the chest (right where my heart is. This, explaining why that broken heart thing has stuck all these years) and the next time it might have moved down only a small bit.

If I write something I love enough to show to others, strangers who have all the power and might or might not approve and share with others, I love it as if it were the object of my affections, feeling as if we (through revealing myself) have just embarked on a mad affair. So you might ask then: why do writers like myself put ourselves through the torture of submission after submission? The answer is obvious I suppose.

Why do we continue to pursue romance and love, even after being burned, most times more than once? Why do we once more put our hearts on the line and risk rejection that may or may not befall our hearts and our guts? It seems counter-intuitive when you look at it logically, but hope shines a light of future success: in love and in writing.

I put off all this way too long and now I am immersing my heart in rejection from all sides. It seems foolish and yet, I do it anyway. Maybe I am simply a glutton for punishment. Maybe I can’t take the hint. Who can say. I feel hurt and alone after love and I feel hurt and alone after every rejection I receive with my writing, but I keep on writing and I keep my heart wide open to the possibility of love once again.

I know I am not alone and I know I will reach the light of brighter days. I take what constructive criticism from those who didn’t want my writing and the lessons I’ve learned from past broken relationships and look toward any future rejection as moving me one step closer to the right guy I will open my heart to and the perfect home for the writing I long to reveal to the world.