A punch in the gut. I was not expecting the letter to start with, I regret to inform you, instead of Congratulations. Certainly not. I had envisioned it arriving in a gold lined envelop with a single ivory sheet--CONGRATULATIONS scrolled atop in curly calligraphy. Not so. I regret to inform you, instead.
Deflated. I read the first line nearly 10 times never moving beyond, I regret to inform you. After read #10, I tossed the flimsy, thin, single, colorless paper to the side and grabbed a long stem glass. Not sure if I expected the line to change after a number of readings or if I was just waiting for it to crystallize for me. I regret to inform you the thing you really wanted is a NO.
Breathe. I had to tell myself, but the spiral began anyway.
What the hell? WHY?
What now? I regret to inform you ...
How dare they? WHY?
They will rue the day! I regret to inform you ...
WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!
Nobody puts Keisha in a corner! I regret to inform you ...
Panic. Fear. Angry. Sullen. I shut myself up in my bedroom for the weekend, spoke only in grunts to Marcus and the kids, and ate every meal in my bed while flipping between Bravo and HGTV. Feeling sorry for myself did not heal or help.
Picking myself up. Meant facing the failure. No excuses. Real self-talk instead of corny cliches like everything happens for a reason. It meant taking a long look inward and asking myself what I really wanted. And awaiting without fear and without filtering what might come. I got some surprise answers. Answers only I regret to inform you could have elicited. Being told "NO" means I am going harder than ever after my real "YES." Get ready to CONGRATULATE me (a few times)! I am failing forward.
*Loved this message from Will Smith & thanks to Nicole V. for introducing me to it and inspiring this post.
Documenting my evolution by filling in space and matter one word at a time.