The Double-Edged Blade of Success
"Excalibur" by Erulian
There's this "funny" thing that happens when you accomplish a big goal. It's hard to notice at first. Depending on your personality type, you may not even notice it at all. That's not a judgmental statement, it's just an acknowledgement on how different people tick. But there in lies the very nature of the observation I'm about to make.
When I originally decided to really focus in on writing my book, I was working two jobs. I quit the part-time gig for a number of reasons, but the main reason I gave my boss was that I wanted my weekends free to focus on my writing (and to stop frying my brain by never having a frigging day off! Repeating patterns much? I told you in the last blog that I'm a slow learner sometimes.). He politely commented, "Oh, really? What are you writing?" I told him I was working on the first book in my fantasy series, trying to get it finished, and he just smiled and nodded before politely wishing me luck. In fairness it was almost two years before I got to the point of actually finishing my book, but the look he gave me was one of "Yeah, right," and I couldn't help but feel a bit put out.
In a ten year span of on-again, off-again writing, I can understand why my friends and family never put much stock in me pursuing my writing career. There was, admittedly, a whole lot of talk and not much action in that area on my part. In all honesty, I eventually got to the point where I didn't even believe myself when I said this was my goal. It started to feel like I was just playing the same broken record over and over again just so I could feel like my life had some semblance of direction in chasing that elusive "someday" scenario.
Last year, almost exactly around this time, my life pretty much went off the rails. Depression and anxiety hit me like a freight train and continued to drag my sorry carcass over the cross rails for a solid two months (apparently you can only bottle things up for so long before it all spills out in an ugly display of force). I finally got help, but not before my personal train wreck blew apart my ability to return to my full time (admittedly high stress) job. I just couldn't do it any more, as dictated to me by the recurring panic attacks and crying jags that made it impossible to function in my first full week back from the summer break. I left my job feeling like a horrible failure, a broken "head case," and, worse, like I'd completely abandoned my team in an already difficult situation (which, was actually kind of true, not that I was much help to them by that point).
It took a lot of personal rebuilding, but I finally got myself back to a point where I was ready to start plotting which direction to go in my life. Unfortunately, nothing really appealed to me, certainly not anything I saw available where I lived. Fast-forward through some soul searching, a nightmarish November, and a surprisingly motivational break-up that included being made to feel worthless for not having a job, and I finally found my motivation to finish my book. I couldn't control the world around me, but I could take control of that one aspect of my life and do something with it. So I did.
I finished my manuscript. I did multiple rounds of editing and proofreading. I decided whether or not to self-publish. I initiated the publication process and made the necessary investment on a risky proposition. I paid for the drafting program and did my own map design. I came up with the cover concept for the design team to develop and produce. I selected the interior design elements and drafted some of my own details (yeah, the fleurons were my design adapted from the cover). I created my own website. I started networking and asking the necessary questions to try and not fall flat on my face. When Ash to Ashes went to print on April 26, 2017, that was my book that went on the market. I did that. I accomplished something. I had some help. I had some encouragement. But at the end of the day, I did it, and I made that struggle count for something.
Here's where we come off the background context and back to the original point. Since publishing my book, I have had a great deal of congratulations and some amazing support. People have stopped me in public and said they were proud of me. They've congratulated me. Some of them have even stopped just to say they recommended the book to friends. Some of these people are folks I've barely spoken to before, but they wanted to share their excitement and support in the fact that I accomplished a pretty big goal for myself. They also expressed encouragement in the production of book 2 and everything else I have planned for the series. It's a really cool and humbling experience to have.
Then there's the other edge of that success sword, the one that bites back to leave tiny seeping cuts you don't notice right away unless you're paying attention. When you accomplish something big in your life, it's not just a solitary, localized event like a lightning strike. It's more like a hail stone hitting a lake. The bigger the stone, the bigger the ripple it causes. The more stones that fall, the more ripples that expand and disrupt each other, but we'll stick to just one for now. In my experience thus far, the ripple caused by my publication has been met by most people as a wave of excitement. People hear about it and are lifted up. They share in riding that positive wave and return to the surface looking forward to the next exciting ripple to come. It really is an awesome ride, so I'm happy I can share this experience. What I wasn't expecting, or prepared to handle, was finding the people that rode the initial wave, but then sunk below the surface after. People who saw my achievement as some sort of benchmark to compare their lives to. People who have their own goals and dreams, but haven't yet achieved them. People who feel lost in identifying their dreams or purpose. People who are aware of the circumstances that allowed me to pursue my goals and yet hold those circumstances against me, ignoring the hardships, loss, or challenges I faced before I finally allowed myself to accept an ill-gotten opportunity for what it was--just an opportunity.
I don't begrudge these folks for these feelings. Feelings are feelings. They happen. By all rights, I know I've reacted the same way in certain circumstances. Every wedding, every childbirth, every promotion, every milestone year held at a job, every time somebody fixes or repairs something I'd have to call a professional to handle. I've gotten jealous. I've questioned my self-worth and direction in life. I've quietly let other people's successes chip away at my ego even as I've congratulated them to their faces. I'm not any different, and I certainly can't be mad about it when it's directed at me.
Here's the thing, though. In my typical overly empathetic way, I've allowed those less-than-positive reactions to eat away at my achievement. God help me, I've actually felt guilty for "making other people feel bad" because I accomplished a goal that I worked towards and took risks for. I felt bad about seizing an opportunity that presented itself to me (that I didn't ask for and would gladly trade just to have my dad back). I let other people's perceptions tarnish my achievement as something I didn't struggle or work hard enough for to complete, even though they never bothered to ask what it took for me to get here. In short, I felt bad for finally achieving something in my life.
Pretty messed up, right? But let me tell you, especially if you have a goal or dream you're working towards, this can happen to you too. So pay attention to this next step, because it's kind of a big one...
I quit.
Not the writing. God no, my head will explode if I don't finally get all these thoughts and ideas out of here.
No, my friends, I quit the job of being held responsible for other people's feelings and reactions. (People in general, not the people reading my books, heavens no. I'll still have fun with you for a while yet! You're welcome.) It's not that I don't care, because I do. I just can't carry that particular burden anymore and still function as a creative person. Your reactions are your own. Your feelings are your own. What you do to resolve your issues is up to you (as long as it doesn't involve harm to self or others). If you want to talk about those problems, that's fine. If there's something I can do to help beyond impeding my own success, I'll do what I can. But I refuse to be held accountable for your feelings and reactions just because I had a positive thing happen in my life. It's exhausting, it's painful, and I refuse to do it anymore, whether you acknowledge it was happening or not.
With that said, I'm moving forward. I've still got some ride left in this wave, and I intend to make the most of it. If you're up for it, maybe you can join me.
