Fearful Safety

MONTHS ago, for the first time in my little life I submitted something to a publisher.

I’m proud to present to ya’ll my very own, my very FIRST rejection letter:

So I was bummed for an hour or so, and I even tried to write about it on facebook.
“My very first rejection letter: proof that I’m brave enough to put myself out there no matter what… also? a good excuse to eat more chocolate.”
It wouldn’t post.
That’s right! My post about my rejection letter was rejected.
Welcome to my life.

Okay, that’s just being dramatic. My life isn’t always like that, but in that moment it certainly FELT that way. And I’m feeling a mixture of pride in myself for sending a piece of my work and life out there fully knowing that people could reject it, toss it in the garbage, and send back a thoughtless mass produced letter addressed to Ms. Alicia Deets.

They don’t know my life!

But I did it anyway. I DID IT. And there’s another part of me that takes the letter as a personal challenge. Like, “Oh YEAH?! Well, I’ll show YOU!”
And then there’s part of me that wants to go back to playing it safe…
A few weeks ago, Lacy put Alice on the couch on top of a blanket. She quickly rolled off the couch and hit her head on the metal part of her bouncer. She screamed and screamed. And the only person to rival her in tears was her older sister, Lacy Lou.
I doled out hugs at a record-breaking rate and then took a little time to teach Lacy about how to safely put baby down.
Apparently, the lesson took. I found Alice in a very safe place last night, but you know what? I think she hated it.

And I gotta admit: I hate padding myself with fear, knowing that if I never put myself out there, I’ll never be rejected.
Rejection is proof that I’m becoming fearless.
At eating more chocolate.

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