When it comes to writing, I have always enjoyed getting things done. I love the feeling that comes when I have completed a piece and feel satisfied by the result. Everyone has something that provides that little release. You are proud of whatever it is that you have accomplished and why shouldn’t you be? We all deserve to pat ourselves on the back every now and again, to acknowledge that we have, indeed, succeeded in our goals. It is human to need these feelings of reward.
In the world that happens behind the screen, long before your papers are printed and delivered to you, there is something that is required of those of us who are writing. Sometimes it is an advertisement article or an event covering and those are tucked safely into the world of third person. Which means that we are merely relaying information to you. Since it’s not a conversation, there exists very little vulnerability.
I would be lying to you if I had said I jumped at the first chance to write this week’s edition of The Policies of Starting Over. The funny is, I did not immediately realize that I had been avoiding sitting down to write this all week. Monday and Tuesday came and went, and I didn’t open this article. I attributed it to the fact that I had been writing other pieces and I was busy but as the days continued to creep by, I started to surprise myself in how avoidant I had become.
By the end of the week, I have usually written and reviewed my piece a dozen times and have sought the advice of whom I learn from daily. That has not been the case this week and I decided to take a deeper look at why.
My subject this week has been ‘Asking for Help’ and upon further investigation, I have concluded that this is the very reason I have been avoiding taking a pen to the subject. You see, I, like countless others, like to be able to handle things myself. Only a few months ago, my life looked starkly different than it does now. I had always believed rock bottom to be a physical place, something you could see or hear but that was not the case at all. Rock bottom was a feeling for me, an incredible combination of shame, guilt and sadness that sat with me constantly. I had no job, no money, and even less motivation to pursue either. My moment came when I realized that there was no reason to continue that way, it was time to start over.
I mentioned to you all last week that I did not expect to be 23 years old and living with my parents, but I consider myself lucky that I do. I pulled up to their house with a black plastic bag of belongings and they saved me. There is no shame in ever going home and asking for help.
I am freshly beginning my career as a writer. Before I had this opportunity, I was slowly running out of options and unfortunately, a bit prideful over where I was willing to work. I felt like I had set some sort of imaginary standard but that if I didn’t meet it, nobody would take me seriously. As time passed that pickiness and pride were slowly replaced with desperation and more shame. I knew that ultimately–I just needed a job. So, I swallowed my pride and hit the ground running. I applied everywhere and found my way here, to a place where my heart is in it every day. What I learned, and am still learning, is that the instant you stop asking for exactly what you want, is often the moment you get exactly what you need.
Your life may not resemble mine. You might not be building directly from the ground; you could be starting a new in any phase of life possible, which is just as valid. No matter what is happening, when there is no light peaking through constantly overcast skies, don’t quit. Choosing to stay at rock bottom can often seem like the only option because better looks so far away. Reach. Call out. You never have to do it all by yourself.
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