|Posted by The Thinking Other Woman on April 14, 2022 at 10:40 PM|
It's like this ...
My new book went up on Amazon two days ago. I felt triumphant about that mostly because I had only ever heard about how fucking horrible KDP is to work with, and I had approached the task with trepidation. I decided to try using Kindle Create instead, although a friend reported that people online were saying they hated it.
It was so much simpler than I had anticipated, including the cover. Here I was dreading the whole process, and it wasn't bad at all!
So when it went up, I was absolutely elated. I had been planning what I would do to promote the book (mostly trying to get articles linked to it up on YourTango and perhaps Medium, since I don't really know what the hell else to do other than a few ads, maybe), and I had been looking forward to that. I had envisioned myself plowing forward in a joyous miasma of success.
Until I remembered what a terrible idea that is.
Since fucking when have I been able to visualize a grand successful outcome for anything and actually seen it happen???
Um ... lessee ... Husband surviving brain cancer? No, definitely not. Things working out with the subject of this blog? No ... definitely not. Any kind of award I ever submitted any fiction to? MOST definitely not. Shit, even my last writer's group couldn't find it in themselves to be at all supportive of the last novel I wrote no matter what I did.
It was demoralizing. Hideously, hideously demoralizing. So, SO awful I Do. Not. Want. To. Experience. That. Feeling. Ever. EVER. Again.
And WHAT'S likely to happen to an ebook on affairs that isn't even by a person with a degree in mental health?? Poor reviews and ever poorer sales, that's what.
What am I going to feel like when I log on and discover some recently cheated-on basket case has left me a scathing one-star review? Or when the pay period comes around and I've only sold three books? I really need to be planning for that to happen, because it is extremely, EXTREMELY likely.
I'm still going to write and post articles, sure. And I planned to make the book its own website. And my therapist had the idea of doing an Instagram. (I forgot about that.)
But do all this and expect anything???
Honey, I better quit imagining myself the proud author whose work actually got acknowleged as being any good by anybody much at all, riiiiiiight now!
In addition, a certain frequent visitor to this blog whose visits always cheered me (whether they should have or not) appears to have gone missing again.
Seriously, why shouldn't he? Even when I posted to him and gave him lots of time, nothing else would follow except another phantom visit. Really, how long after a relationship breakup can one expect an ex-partner to keep clicking on the website of a person he never, but never, but never, but never intends to come back to???
I mean, come on. Seven years has to be a world record. From his view patterns over the past few years, he has to have been visiting here because he felt at least some emotional attachment still. We loved each other that much. Of that I can feel proud, and for it I can be grateful.
But at some point, remaining at home forever as he obviously plans to do, staying away from this place and forgetting about me would promote the most sanity on his part. How long are you going to hang around and pine over someone you have decided never, ever to see or speak to again?
So, of course I expect that I will keep logging on one day and find that it's been a long time since a "suspicious" visit, and realize I should never expect to see another one ever, ever again. And I will know there's no hope of seeing or hearing from this person ever, ever again.
Looks as if that day may have finally arrived.
And I have been very, very sad about that. Because I always wished, always hoped, always dreamed, someday, we would be together. We had that potential in the next two years, if horoscope transits are to be believed.
SEE why holding really high hopes for really good things needs to be avoided???
At least, it does if you're me. I don't have fucking Saturn squaring everything in my chart for nothing.
If I could JUST FORGET ALL ABOUT THE GUY, I would be fine. But, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, this is not.
This is all made worse by the fact that I am essentially close to no one. I have no close friends, and no family. I really don't expect to have either ever again. Add to that the fact that I have to stop myself every time I imagine any kind of real success with my book, and this is one sad life I'm living.
I, however, do not think antidepressants are the answer.
For one thing, I AM capable of feeling better. All I had to do this afternoon was leave my therapy session, go try out the new Starbucks that actually has a roof over its outdoor seating, enjoy a Vanilla Sweet Cream Nitro Cold Brew and a rice crispy treat, and work on the article my YourTango editor suggested I write. I discovered an astonishing new angle I really hadn't planned on, and I was so happy about it I actually forgot for a while about ... You-Know-Who.
If I could just keep on doing that, I'd be fine.
Which is, of course, a lot easier when other people notice you and generally acknowledge you competent at whatever it is you are trying to do. Which I don't anticipate, and for good reason.
I really don't think all of this is about saying the Final Goodbye to him per se. I think a lot of it is about saying goodbye to a whole paradigm for the way I lived when I was young, a Santa Claus way of living that always anticipated miracles. And the happiness I once lived every day when I was married to my husband.
As sad as I am every day now, I was happy then. Whatever else happened or didn't happen to me then, I always knew he was waiting for me, and that we had each other.
I hoped for so many years for the same with You-Know-Who, not only because how funny and smart and witty and just plain fascinating he was made me believe I would be happy with him, but because I know he's always longed for just such a relationship in his life.
AND I KNOW HOW! I've only worked my ass off TO know how my ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE!
Yet, after a mere fifteen years of being able to have that kind of relationship with someone, now I'm old and that part of my life is over. Now I'm going to be alone forever more.
After the second guy that sort of magic looked like it would work with, forcibly turned himself away from the one thing he's wanted his entire life ... so his daughter wouldn't stop speaking to him and throw him out of her life.
It's so unfair. It's so sad. We don't live forever. We're running out of time.
I know, I know. We're not here to live our comfort zone. We're here to leave our comfort zone behind, to blaze new trails, to become competent in aspects of the human experience we haven't explored yet and to become a more complete and whole person.
Why, why, why, WHY does such spiritual growth always seem to mean we must leave behind our fondest dreams and dearest people? Why must spiritual growth always mean we have to leave happiness behind forever and ever more?
MUST life in a human experience ALWAYS FEEL THIS SHITTY????
Why does the answer to everything we want, always have to be no? Sometimes I HATE LIFE.
I really, really do.
Better keep writing those articles.
It's all I have left now.