Showing all posts tagged expectations

In Books, Identity, Movies/TV, Nurture, Parenting, Personal Growth, Relationships, Uncategorized, University, Writing

New Season

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I’m heading into a new season this fall, beginning my two-year full-time MFA program in Creative Writing at UBC. We’re meeting in person, which will be a huge change after moving online for the the last 18 months of my BA. With vaccinations available to everyone aged twelve and up this summer, it seemed possible for a “return to normal” in September, but classes begin next week and the variants are still spreading at alarming rates.

If we’ve all learned anything during this never-ending pandemic, it’s to expect change at a moment’s notice. We plan, and we hope, getting vaccinations when they are offered, wearing masks indoors to stay safe, thoroughly washing our hands, and trying not to take unnecessary risks. We have no guarantees, and we try to manage our fear.

In any new season, I usually feel a mix of joy and dread. This fall, I have lots of different emotions crowding to the surface. I’ve loved my five month break from academia. I’ve read loads of mystery and crime novels, slept in, watched some great TV, played cards with Jason and the kids, walked, practiced some yoga and wrote. My three guiding words in this season were: rest, relax, rejuvenate. I wanted to be prepared and ready for the new challenges of being a full-time MFA student.

Part of me mourns the end of the summer. The other embraces it with open arms, as I feel like I prioritized rest and leisure, so I hope I’ll see the rewards once I jump back in to classes and assignments. I’m also going to be a TA for the first time for an undergrad writing class. This both excites and scares me. We never really know if we are up to a challenge simply by thinking about it. We have to jump in and do it in order to really find out.

We have another unexpected change in the form of Ava taking a gap year before starting at University of Victoria. For an entire year, I’ve been emotionally preparing for her to leave home, grieving for her while she was still here living with us. And then at the end of July, we found out that she wouldn’t have a place to live on campus, so after a flurry of searching for off-campus housing that didn’t exist or was ridiculously expensive, Ava made the decision to defer her admission for one year. So she remains at home, working a couple of part-time jobs to save more money for school next year.

A lovely surprise because I don’t have to let go of her quite yet, but still a change that I wasn’t expecting. Next week, William starts grade 10 at a new high school in our district, so for him it’s a new season as well. Something in my nature loves predictability and certainty, but too much stability becomes stale. We do need a bit of variety and spontaneity to keep us engaged and growing.

The older I get, the more I understand that I can’t think my way through change. I just have to walk it out. Trying to forecast exactly what will happen is a fool’s errand. Situations are too complex for that type of guesswork. As we say in the recovery movement, an expectation is a premeditated resentment. I’m trying to “cherish no outcome” as a friend of mine says. Instead I choose to believe I’ll have what I need for the challenges ahead at the moment I need them. Not before and not after.

Tomorrow the calendar turns over to September and a whole new season begins. What’s in store for you this fall?

In Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth

To Struggle is Human

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
To Struggle is Human

This is a public service announcement that it’s okay to struggle. You are only human, after all, and not one of us is getting out of here alive. So try to keep your chin up. Eat the chocolate. Remember that another day is coming.

It’s always easier to accept mess and mistakes from others than from ourselves. Gentleness is the key, even when we don’t feel particularly competent or brave. Especially then.

What if it’s enough to simply try your best, even if the results are not as spectacular as you imagined? In fact, try not to aim for out-of-this-world amazing. Go for decent instead. Then you can lay your head on your pillow at the end of a long day and remind yourself, “I was good enough today.”

When we feel hollow at the centre of our being, it doesn’t necessarily mean we are missing something. It might simply be a signal to slow down, to get quiet, to become reacquainted with our authentic self by intentionally tuning out the noise all around us.

Happiness lies in acceptance. We won’t always feel triumphant and terrific. The reverse experience is also valid, as the lows must balance those highs. Sadness anchors our joy. Every emotion is an ingredient in the stew that makes up our human existence. It’s our expectations that repeatedly fuck us up.

Patience, grace, leisure. These matter as much as ambition, meaning and productivity. Some days we may not feel like our best selves, and this is absolutely fine. Try opening up your hands and holding loosely to the things that matter to you. Balance remains elusive, even when everything is clicking, but to quote the great and wise Oprah, “There is no such thing as balance. Only choices.”

Some seasons we give, others we receive. Allow yourself to feel what is happening to you and in you, even if it refuses to adhere to the script you’ve written. You are enough, for whatever comes your way. Take some time to just be human, with all of your unique complexities, frailties and fears.

We are here. We are doing our best. We are worthy, even in the midst of the struggle. We can eat the chocolate and refuse to feel guilty. Tomorrow is another day.

In Nurture, Personal Growth, Writing

This Rejection Place

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on
This Rejection Place

Between what we long for and what we have there is generally a gap. This place is where our discontentment thrives.

I long for a traditional publishing contract. I’ve been querying, on and off, on a spiritual memoir for almost three years. A ton of rejection comes with this process. I knew it when I started. Getting a full manuscript request from an agent early on was exciting, only to be told she liked it but didn’t think she could sell it.

Two story contests came across my social media feed this summer that I decided to enter. I wrote the two best stories I possibly could and sent them off with high hopes. Neither one made the shortlist, bringing back those ugly doubts and fears, whispering all day and night to my spirit: “maybe you’re just not a good enough writer.”

It’s dark and lonely in this rejection place. My psyche feels wounded and lost, like a dark cave where you forever hear water dripping, a sound that will eventually drive you mad.

I handed in my first flash fiction story in my creative writing university class. I was really happy with it, once again telling myself that I couldn’t do any better at this stage of my life as a writer. I got glowing feedback on it but didn’t achieve the perfect grade I wanted. Once again, that voice in the cave was back, taunting me with my own worthlessness.

I do know that writing is subjective. Criticism is meant to improve our skills and we shouldn’t take it personally. Sometimes it’s easy to take a bird’s-eye view of the whole process and console yourself with the fact that at least you are in the game. I’m putting myself out there and trying for something, and the price is the inevitable rejection.

Time heals and takes away the sting. I will keep going, but today I will allow myself to wallow a little in the hurt and frustration. The real problem, as always, is my own damn expectations. I start to write a happy ending to a particular submission story, when I have no actual control over the tastes of the judges or teachers or agents or publishers.

I can only do what I can do, then I must let go of the outcome. Sounds easy, but it’s the hardest part of the whole process. When will I learn this? When will I finally improve at it?

Rejection will always hurt. But it doesn’t have to stop us or define us. Bumps in the road will never stop cropping up. It helps to remember that the people who matter in my life will love me no matter what happens.

The key to resilience is picking up my pen and writing another word, another sentence, another character. I have to believe that not quitting is what will get me to where I want to go, even if it takes way longer than I want it to.

In Personal Growth, Writing

Rejection

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on Leave a comment
Rejection

 

rejection

Rejection is a bitch. It can take you out at the knees and severely bruise your confidence.

I received a rejection this week for a government grant I applied for. I wanted to take the Literary Salon experience of meaningful conversation to as many high school English classes as possible in the 2016-17 school year.

I thought this project fit well in the Spoken Word category, but the deciding committee did not agree.

 

Expectations

I fully recognize that a huge part of my problem with rejection is the expectation that I build around certain outcomes. This is my fault. I’d love to be breezy about every aspect of my life (hell, even a few areas would be a good start!) but find this immensely challenging.

In theory, I should’ve applied for this grant and then carried on with my other work – writing a manuscript and a screenplay, querying agents, submitting to magazines, developing new workshop topics, sending out speaking proposals, creating another grant application – and allowed the chips to fall wherever they are meant to without investing in any desired future result.

I need to practice this. I have no shortage of other projects to work on, but I seem hardwired to daydream my way into what I long for most, and then become righteously pissed-off when the reality veers away from my carefully-laid plans.

We all face rejection, in one way or another. As a writer, I’ve stuck my damn hand up in the air and volunteered for it, but some still hurt more than others. Perhaps it’s the cumulative effect of too many “no’s” without a “yes” thrown in to break up the monotony.

Internal Monologue

Our internal monologue is what gets us into the deepest trouble. I should know by now that saying to myself, “It’s okay, Julianne. You tried and that’s what matters. This particular committee didn’t see the value in this work but that doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile. Keep on going – you’re doing fine” is healthier and more productive than the alternative, “You suck and everyone knows it. Why don’t you do the world a favour and stop writing, speaking and creating altogether. You’re only embarrassing yourself.”

Rejection is a part of life. How we handle it is what matters most. I’m going to allow myself to feel this one by having a good cry and then summoning the courage to call the grant office and try to understand why my application failed. If I can learn from this for the next setback, it will help me in the long run.

Where I go from here is the important part. Which voice will I listen to? The angry, critical, shaming one or the loving, hopeful, supportive one? I get to choose that. So do you.