About a month prior to my book publishing and for about two weeks after, I suffered an epic grief relapse. I miss my child so much. My sleep was rocky. And something else I can’t quite put a label on. Writing the book was cathartic and allowed me to find healing. But having something out there that is so personal is something else entirely. I expected to be overjoyed. And I was but there were so many mixed emotions.
Will people hate it? How does it compare to other books? Then there is the guilt for sharing such a heartbreaking story. And the struggle as a first-time author with no previous credibility. At every turn, someone is literally telling me I’m not celeb enough for this or that.
I expected the latter since it is my first book. And I’m good at letting comments like that roll off me and not take it to heart. I mean everyone has to start somewhere. But repeated over and over, it can be harder to deflect, requiring more mindful episodes and positive self talk to ground me.
I’m focusing on the positive. I have so much to be grateful for. The number of friends who showed up for the book launch, the lovely reviews all of you are leaving. The messages you are sending, the social media posts with your pictures. I capture all of them by taking a screenshot or saving the picture in an album so I’m reminded why I wrote the book in the first place. I can’t tell you what all of that means to me.
I’m proud of me. I said I was going to write a book. And it was exceedingly painful and hard. But I did it. Doing so has helped me heal emotionally. The relapse was brief and survivable.
Having my heart out there on its own journey has been something to get accustomed to. Thanks to all of your support, I’m adjusting.