Bismillah ir Rahman ir Raheem
My mother’s death anniversary is in 17 days. And I’ve chosen to allow my son’s boundless energy inspire me, not tire me out. Notwithstanding bouts of depression and depression, both of which I’ve had in the past few weeks.
So barring the illegal and immoral, I’ve wanted to take every opportunity I can. I want to love as much as possible, feel as much as possible and help as many people as I can. Do everything I can as long as I have breath left in my body.
So I’ve been playing the ‘Yes Man’ game, submitting to everything big and small.
The only real failure is not losing money, love, respect or time, but losing faith in God and Him losing patience with me.
I tried not to overthink it. Just follow my gut and write what felt right.
Shockingly I was pretty proud of the results. This is the first time I’ve ever felt good about submission. Seriously.
I felt GURR-EATTT for a little bit. High as a kite even. But then came the hard part – the waiting.
All kinds of scenarios play in my head.
‘They’re giving it to their neighborhood dogs to tear to pieces.’
‘They’re using it as diapers.’
‘They’re passing it around laughing at it.’
‘My face is on a billboard under a sign that says FOOL GIRL.’ (I love exaggerating)
But since I don’t know which is going to happen, in my head, I give myself a standing ovation for trying. I am really proud of myself and what I’ve submitted, regardless of what the submittee thinks.
Heck, what else am I going to do?
Onto the next thing.