GRRRRRR!  I hate that when I put myself out there, and let go of the side of the pool, that sometimes, every time there is a point where I forget that I don’t know how to do this exactly, that I’m in some sort of environment completely foreign to me and I get water up my nose, and it burns, and pisses me off.

I hate feeling judged.  I hate feeling less than.  I hate hating the people that I feel are judging me and making me feel less than.  I hate making me feel less than.

I submitted a piece for publication and received a very lovely, albeit standardized, response telling me that my efforts needed more work.  A piece, which I giggled over for the 2 hours it took me to write, was less than what they were looking for and that perhaps I needed to do a little more soul searching.

In that moment, I wanted to firebomb their offices, shake their kombucha bottles and let the air out of their bicycle tires.

How dare they?  How dare they, with their irreverent articles on mindfulness and living out your purpose, dare to tell me that my version of how I am doing those very things, isn’t good enough?  That I need to try harder?  That, perhaps, I didn’t get it just perfect straight out of the gate?  That I am not loved and adored on the first try, possibly even the second or even third?

Don’t they know I’m an eldest child?  Don’t they know that I’ve been working at perfection my entire life?  Don’t they realize that if I can’t get this right, I don’t know who I am or what I’m supposed to be doing?  That maybe nothing I’ve ever done has been right?

Don’t they know that doing what you love is supposed to be easy, and that means no proofreading, edits or re-writes?

F. U. editors of irreverent blog full of writers whose lives I admire and prose I enjoy!  You want me to work for this?  Fine.  Get ready to be suffocated under the weight of all that is mindful, insightful and brimming with juicy soul goodness!  I accept your challenge to prove my gift and write a better, more meaningful and poignant piece!  You’d better run out to Whole Foods and pick up the economy sized box of bamboo Depends, because you’re going to be laughing so hard you’re going to fill your Toms with pee!  I’ll show you how meaningful I’m about to make this life.

Now I’m going to go meditate so hard it will hurt.