Uncontrollable compulsions. Deafening anxiety. Inability to calm down and think of anything else.
It’s only been three days since I turned in my manuscript to the hands of completely unknown people (or well, a week since I sent it to the first). And I am already at my fourth big anxiety attack with inability to get out of bed and go to school. My OCD is getting worse than it’s been for a year and I feel mentally exhausted.
The approximate waiting time for the reader to get back to you is two months or more. That makes eight weeks. 56 days. 1344 hours.
Am I gonna stay in this wrecked, useless shape for that long, all on account of 120 pages of text being held at a publishers office? How can I even manage trough that? It’s absurd.
And my writing. Oh, dear. If I didn’t know myself, I’d think that I’m going crazy. I spend 98 percent of my waking time thinking about or working on the story I hold so close to my heart. Everything has gotten so real. I’m closer to my dreams than I ever thought I would be at this state, and it scares me to the point where I cringe and try to escape the world.
Then I get the advice: “Stop writing and take a break. Just enjoy how far you’ve gotten and relax while you wait for your response.”
And I shudder uncomprehendingly. The words reach my ears as: “Stop breathing and take a break. Just enjoy how many breaths you’ve already drawn in life.”
I don’t understand them. They don’t understand me. All that I could ever dream of is happening – I’m being recognized as a talent and get my chance to prove my worth. People believe in me. I believe in me.
Yet I’m more alone than ever, since nobody can comprehend the utter abyss of madness and fear that grows deeper by every loving sentence. And I keep bleeding out word after word, hoping to satisfy that hunger in me, the beast that draws me near the edge yet keeps me from falling.
Then someone looks up at me, as I sit in my own fears embrace, and says:
“I admire you. To work so hard and then send it away for other eyes to see. That’s really strong of you.”
Strong? Did you say strong? I’m taken aback with awe. I’ve described myself as weak countless of times during this process, but not even once thought of giving myself a pat on the back and say “Hey. Nice work there.”
Never allowing myself to rejoice over fulfilling my goals and overcoming my fears. Never giving a thought to where I’d be if I’d given up on the first, clumsy attempts. Not seeing myself for who I am, an individual with great potential and talent just a journey away from reaching the stars.
– Malicia Frost