This weekend we got our shit back together.
Last weekend we attempted it, but failed. I don’t even really know why we failed. Maybe it was because we really needed to have a weekend at home, together, to remember what it felt like. Maybe we needed to lay on our couch, cook in our kitchen, see a movie, go for a walk, play outside, etc. before we could even be capable of putting together all of the pieces. Maybe we needed to find the pieces first. Whatever the reason, it didn’t happen until yesterday.
It’s a good thing, too, because I’m feeling a little … overwhelmed? I’m feeling overwhelmed and surprisingly shy. With this whole redesign thing I’m having people (people who look at websites and make them prettier for a living, who look at LOTS of websites… websites with businesses attached and honest to goodness reasons for their existence) check out my website and see my content. And it’s making me feel naked. And not in the sexy way. I feel exposed and embarrassed? (Second question-mark statement if you’re counting.)
But even saying that it makes me feel embarrassed is also embarrassing. (Oh god I’m a mess.) Like, “Why yes, I have a blog… and yes, I take it rather seriously… and yes… a lot of people have blogs that they take seriously. Blogging is one of those things that’s an eye roll away from being a diary I shove under my bed at night. And yes, I’m going to pay you money to make my blog fancy and do things I have no talent to do. Hi, my name is Lauren, would you like to read about my life?” God, I hope you (person I am hiring) don’t think I’m lame!!
And here we are again at the eternal problem of caring what other people think.
Speaking of… I’ve also been submitting work to people who get paid to judge such things. People who spend the majority of their day saying. “No.” And then they mail me a very small piece of paper, or a very short email saying, “No… thank you.” And it always happens on the day I’ve finally forgotten I’ve even sent anything to anyone, on a day where the sun is shining and the birds are singing and I have plans to meet up with friends and I’m probably also making pancakes with beautiful home-made (not) jam… and then the message arrives that says, “Hi, you don’t remember me, but we read your work, the story that took you a year to write and about 7 drafts to finish and we think it ‘Doesn’t fit with our current content’ but please do keep us in mind for your next story. Read: Nice try, suckah.” All of that in a simple, “No, thank you.” You’d be surprised how each word in a 3 word sentence is loaded that heavily. It hasn’t happened yet, but oh-ho-ho they’re reading and they’re judging and I’m cringing and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
So thank god we cleaned our house and washed our towels. I can see our dining room table – the actual table part now. And I can walk around on our carpet with bare-feet and not feel like there are crumbs or feathers…. feathers?… stuck to my soles. And I have clean underwear. And sometimes that’s all there is between you and a meltdown.