You are cordially invited to my pity party.
I’m really disappointed. And I’m feeling quite sorry for myself. Let me explain.
Please don’t get too close though, I might drip snot on you as I cry and perhaps also throw a temper tantrum.
I joyfully signed up for a very big conference, a sort of summit, that will happen this summer in Portland. When the opportunity arose to pitch a breakout session, I was all over it. One of my friends told me that last year, overwhelm was rampant–attendees were hit by a huge wave of “how do I do all this?!?” So for my breakout, I proposed my Overwhelm/Overload Smackdown–my most popular workshop.
I thought, “I’ve got a real shot at this.”
A little voice, ever deeper down said, “No, you don’t. You better not get your hopes up.”
I told the little voice to shut up.
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Brene Brown writes, “For many years, if I really wanted something to happen–an invitation to speak at a special conference, a promotion, a radio interview–I pretended that it really didn’t matter that much.”
I hear you, sister.
My M.O. is to secretly pray like crazy please-please-please-please while outwardly not telling anybody that I’m even trying at all. Then, when I get the notification, I start chanting, “You didn’t get it. You’re not on this list. You didn’t get it.” Before I even open the email.
Ever since I read Brene Brown’s book, though, I’ve seen getting my hopes up and including people around me as an essential act.
“…I’ve learned that playing down the exciting stuff doesn’t take the pain away when it doesn’t happen. It does, however, minimize the joy when it does happen. It also creates a lot of isolation.”
So when I applied for the breakout session at the big summit (at which, by the way, Brene Brown will speak), I liberally got my hopes up. I encouraged my hopes, nurtured their tender little shoots, and let others see them grow.
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When I got the link of the nominations for breakout sessions, I was genuinely excited. As I started scrolling down, I saw some well-known names. This was my first hint.
I thought, “They went for some big names.”
I kept scrolling. As I did, the deep down little voice began to chant, “I’m not on this list. I didn’t get it.”
And then I saw who did. A title very similar to mine. Her topic description was very much like mine. And she got two nominations on two different topics.
Ugh.
I sat back and little tears came to my eyes. I told myself that I should be happy for this person. But, of course, I’m not. I’m jealous. I’m hurt. I’m disappointed.
My dearly beloved said, “Maybe it’s the Universe’s way of telling you to write your book.”
My deep down little voice said, “Humpf. Maybe it’s the Universe’s way of telling you that you’re never going to make it. Just quit. Why go through more disappointment and hurt?”
But that’s not what Brene Brown might say. She writes, “Every time we choose courage, we make everyone around us a little better and the world a little braver. And our world could stand to be a little kinder and a little braver.”
I looked at the tender shoots of my hopefulness and discovered that while they were a little wilted, they were still alive. Rather than pull them up by the roots, I decided to see what they might turn into after they grow awhile.
I think that’s a reason to celebrate.
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