Digesting Disappointment

They say when one door closes another one opens, but there times in our lives when it seems that doors don't just gently close on us, sometimes it feels like they are slammed shut in our faces. 

When relationships, careers, health issues and commitments previously made don't unfold as we had hoped they would, for whatever reason, we are then faced with having to swallow and emotionally digest the bitter taste of disappointment.

Disappointment, I have come to believe, is emotional medicine we sometimes reluctantly need to take for our own good.  As unpleasant as it is, it serves as a powerful reminder that it is wisest in life, to replace our expectations with preferences.

Some of us digest the bitter taste of disappointment gracefully without complaint, others spit it back out and go to war with the one that slammed shut the door.   Some of us stand and yell at the shut door for a while and some of us drop to our knees, have a cry so we honour our true feelings and then change direction and move on.

I chose the last option an hour before I was scheduled to conduct a workshop in Darwin on Friday afternoon.  I dropped to my knees and had a heartfelt cry.  I felt the full shock of the door being suddenly slammed in my face.  I expected otherwise.  I am improving though; I didn't do a dummy spit, nor go to war, or yell.  I swallowed my bitter medicine as gracefully as I could.  I do however admit I had made an emotional investment in the outcome of this situation, and felt very sad when it did not eventuate.  So I dropped to my knees, honoured my feeling of disappointment by owning it, actually feeling it, and then got up, wiped my face and went to work. 

Beautiful Barb my hearts mother has cautioned me many times about the emotional hazards involved in having an emotional investment in a situations outcome.   She has taught me that I am setting myself up for potential disappointment.  She used to say to me back in the early days of my recovery when I was first grasping the concept of preferences instead of expectations, that it is safest to make plans for my future dreams and hopes but to ensure I don't emotionally live in the plan's outcome.  Barb advised that I must do my best, one day at a time, putting one foot in front of the other and live emotionally present to the moment.  She explained that if I do my best every day, make my plans but remain open to change and other possibilities this is the healthiest way to live.  For in the present moment being grateful for what I do have, not what I don't have, fosters internal feelings of abundance.  I remember she often used to remind me that "Life is under no obligation to give me what I expect".  She would encourage me to replace my expectations with preferences, for preferences, she lovingly advised me, are gentler on the heart.

I had an intuitive feeling something was not right.  For those of you who have been following my blog for a while you might recall my blogs about four weeks ago (see March/April archives).  I was invited to speak at the launch of a new book written by a colleague I worked with eight years ago.  I had written the opening chapter of his book and as he was overseas with his ill father I agreed to speak at his book launch for him.  I had almost finished writing the concluding chapter of my third book "Emotional Monogamy" the week before.  I had been sitting with the discomfort of the next phase ahead of me as a writer, preceding this book launch.  I was putting off commencing the calls to prospective publishing houses.  This stage involves often receiving rejection letters whilst holding true to backing myself and not giving up on my dream of sharing my words with others.  I had done this twice before with my first two books, but found this phase more challenging than writing the actual book itself.

As I stepped off of the podium on the evening of the book launch, after saying a few words in support of my friends latest book, I was greeted with words of praise and thanks from his publisher.  He sat with me for a while as I shared with him that I was extremely close to completing my manuscript.  He said he would be keen to review it.  We exchanged cards that evening, and emails the following week.  We then made a time to meet once I had put all the finishing touches to the manuscript.  In our meeting I took the manuscript with me to leave with him to review.  Much to my surprise and delight before reading a word of the manuscript, he said he would like to offer me a publishing contract having read some of my written work in my friends first chapter.   

I was gob smacked and flattered.  I could not stop smiling and raced straight over to see Mr. Delicious (my husband) to tell him the great news in person.  I told my boys, Beautiful Barb and shared the joyous news with you (my blog reader) and also emailed the wonderful Australian female celebrity (that I am keeping as a surprise for my readers) who has agreed to write the forward for my book.

I agreed with this publisher not to approach any other houses whilst he prepared the contracts for my new book deal for signing.  As Easter was only a week away he asked me to give him a few weeks.  I agreed as there was no hurry, and I was genuinely thrilled!

Three weeks passed and I had not heard a word, so I gave him a call, but he was not in, so I left a message. 

No response. 

So I called a few days later and left another message. 

No response.

I waited another week trying hard to not be impatient.  I was heading to Darwin and wanted a timeline on rough publication dates so I could inform the conference delegates that would be present at the Darwin conference, when to expect my next book.    So I emailed him letting him know I had tried twice to contact him by phone, and was fine if the contracts weren't ready, I was just looking for a rough time line on publication dates. 

No response. 

A few days later before I flew out to Darwin, I forwarded him a link to an interview that Lifeline had done about my forthcoming visit on YouTube just to keep him in the loop.

No response.

I wondered if something terrible had happened either to him or one of his family members and was becoming genuinely concerned.  I flew to Darwin without hearing anything from him. 

I was in the shower in my Darwin hotel suite, at around 11.30am preparing to get dressed to run my workshop.  I was due to present at 1.30pm but had to be in the conference room by 1.00pm to set up and get my bearings in the room.  Inspiration and clarity often hits me loud and clear whilst I shower, I don't know why.  I just had this feeling that if I phoned him as soon as I got out of the shower, I would reach him.  So I did as soon as I dried myself. 

Before I scrolled to his name in my Blackberry I acknowledged to myself that I was prepared for bad news one way or another.  It was an ideal time for me to receive a rejection of my work, if that was what was in store, for I had a room full of people awaiting me no matter what he said.  I have now learned over the years that the best way to digest disappointment is ensuring I interact with people who believe in me after I have received the disappointment that often can feel like a rejection.  Love I now know, dissolves fear for me, in every situation, however I have to take the action to reach out for it.  The hardest component for me to swallow when digesting disappointment is self doubt.  The bitterness comes from the nagging thoughts that maybe I am not good enough, not worthy, kidding myself.  I knew instinctively from past experience it would be easier for me to digest disappointing news if it was followed by a professional commitment to give my best and share with others why I write and do this work.  I knew no matter what he said or how disappointing the news, I would have to use it to fuel me onward and not let it get the better of me. 

So I phoned.  I got his receptionist.  She put me on hold to listen to some honky tonk music for what seemed like forever, then I heard his voice.

He was apologetic and sincere.  As he spoke it seemed clear that my writing style was too autobiographical and not clinical enough for his publishing house.  He explained that he specializes in academic publications.  I knew that, and was amazed in the first place that he was interested in my work.  He admitted he had been putting off contacting me.  I appreciated his frankness.  He said he thought I did good work, but his editor and he could not make my style and format fit their requirements. They would not have published either of my first two books he explained as he mentioned he had now read them both in full.  They are too "self help" he said.  He was as gentle as he could be.  I just listened and did my best to fight back my tears.  Maybe he just thought my book sucks, or really hates my writing style, I will never know.  But what I did know loudly and clearly when I got off the phone was that the promised publishing contract weeks before, was now off the table.   My previous delight and my emotional expectation in the outcome that having been given his verbal word, all would go well, now made me feel naive.

I was wrong.

I had faced rejection from publishers many times before and no doubt will many times again, that was not what upset me.  It was the total reversal of an offer being retracted that I did not see coming.  It took my feet out from under me like a rug being pulled from where I naively stood smiling thinking I was on firm ground.

 I carried myself on the phone with the grace of a woman and thanked him for his honesty.  But as soon as I got off the phone I dropped to my knees with my towel wrapped around me and just sobbed. 

It helped. 

I thought back to the Sienfield interview I heard around the time I was sending my first manuscript off to publishing houses and getting rejected back in 2000.  Seeing this interview kept me going when I was almost ready to give up.  I was under the naive impression that if I had any real talent, the first publisher that read my work would fall in love with it and I would be on my way.   So after the fourth rejection letter as an amateur writer ten years ago, my self belief that I had anything worth while to say that anyone would ever want to read was at an all time low.  Then by chance (more like Father Time's impeccable timing) I flicked onto a television interview that Jerry Sienfield was giving about when he first started out with the idea for his television sitcom.  He explained that his idea was rejected by over 15 different networks before it got picked up and became and international success story.  He said that the feedback he got in the rejection letters just fuelled him on, so much so that he kept every letter and still has them today.  Now I think, without a doubt, Jerry Sienfield has huge talent, but these skilled professional network executives could not see his vision so they would not back him.  But he continued to back himself.

So I decided to dust that story off in the archives of my heart and carry it with me again as I really do believe in this little book child's potential I have just birthed, and will not give up on it. 

And I wanted to share this part of my journey in my blog with you today for any budding writers that are just starting out like I was a decade ago.  I loved it when I read somewhere that a professional writer is just an amateur that never gave up!

I was sad and bitterly disappointed, nonetheless, and knew this feeling and bitterness would pass the quickest if I just surrendered to how I honestly felt.  I tried to phone Beautiful Barb a few times but could not reach her.  Mr. Delicious had accompanied me on this trip but was out on a fishing charter boat so he had no telephone signal.  So on my knees, I asked Mother Nature and Father Time to carry me through the day and give me strength to do the best workshop I was able to do.

When I arrived in the hotel conference room I was pleased to find it was a full house; they had to bring in more chairs.  The feedback after my workshop was excellent I was told by the CEO.  She was really pleased with my work.   I sold more books per head after this workshop than I have ever sold before.  It was a wonderful heart massage that helped me fully digest the day's earlier bitter disappointment. It reminded me to be grateful for the work I am blessed to do, and the books I have already have been fortunate enough to have published.

I was sitting in the empty conference room alone, after everyone had left, admittedly comforting myself with a bowl of shortbread that was left from the afternoon tea.  It was like a huge party had just ended and the warmth of celebration and human connection still filled the room.  I soaked it in.  I was feeling grateful for the encouragement and validation I had just received in great abundance.  I decided to put a call into another wonderful Australian publishing house then and there.  I had the strength to get off my emotional knees again, and soldier on cradling my dream.  I was fortunate enough to speak directly to the Editor late on this Friday afternoon.  He said he would be pleased to have a look at my work; I closed my eyes with relief, took a deep breath and felt my heart smile.   I will send it to him later this week and keep my fingers crossed.   Even if he is not interested in publishing it, he will offer some constructive feedback so I can improve it, and hopefully share it with you one day.

Mr. Delicious was waiting for me in the luxurious suite we were given when I returned at 5.30pm.  He had had a wonderfully successful day out on the water and caught some beautiful fish.  He could see I was sad so he had a shower to de-fish himself and with a towel around his waist, he lay on the king-sized hotel bed and looked at me with his warm brown eyes.  He patted the bed; beckoning me to come and sit with him he asked me what was wrong.  As I told him I cried again, and his gentle voice and warm arms comforted me as I flushed out the last bitter dregs of disappointment.

By the time Barb got my missed calls and phoned back, I was able to relay the events to her without tears.   I had fully digested the disappointment by this stage, and was able to recycle it and find the lessons in what I had done.  I had emotionally invested in an outcome rather than just remaining open to the possibility that things may well still change direction. 

I have had many doors slam shut on me throughout my recovery over the past 14 years.  As I look back at each slammed door I can now see how necessary it was at that pivotal time in my life, for me to change direction.  I can also see that, in hindsight, I would not have changed direction willingly.  I needed to be firmly directed and was lovingly parented by by Mother Nature and Father Time as they shut the door for me, even though at the time it felt like I was being punished. I was always rewarded down the track, by bigger and more wonderful opportunities every time a door I thought I wanted to go through was slammed shut on me.

I will finish today's blog with a little story Beautiful Barb often reminds me of when I am tempted to stand and yell at a shut door that has bruised my ego.  She and her husband Trevor live on what I call a mini farm.  They have dogs, chickens, horses, cows, bull's ducks and ducklings that swim on their beautiful waterlilllied dam.  One afternoon Barb was watching Trev out of her kitchen window as he was trying very hard to persuade his prize bull to get into the trailer.  Trev was about to take this bull to another property where countless fertile cows were waiting for this beautiful bull to come and breed with them.  But the bull was not happy, he did not want to leave his lovely paddock and get into this small cattle float.  If only the young male bull knew that the short uncomfortable trip would be so worth his while in the long run.  This little story of Barb's is a useful visual for me at times like this.

I think of this bull not being able to see the bigger picture when doors shut for me and I cannot see the bigger picture as to why situations have to change.   I, like the stubborn bull, can be short sighted if I only focus on the discomfort and inconvenience of the shut door or the inconvenient change I am facing.

So who knows what is in store for my next manuscript?  Maybe a publishing house more suited to my style of work will fall in love with it sometime down the track and will help me help it fly out to my readers?    In the meantime as I type this blog on my flight back to Bris Vegas from Darwin, I am grateful to you for taking the time to share this space with me.

So my hot tip to help you digest any disappointments that you may have to face or may already be facing is to try and be grateful for what you do have.  And also to try and remember that Mother Nature and Father Time may just have a more wonderful option for you to explore that you would not be able to discover had this door not shut on you.  With this insight we don't have to waste energy in fighting change but can surrender more graciously and go with the flow.  Just think how much energy Barbs bull could have conserved for those delightful cows had he not been so grumpy?

I was once told that the size of my success would be measured by the strength of my desire, the size of my dream, and how I handle disappointment along the way.  Well I am yet to evolve to the stage where I handle disappointment with grace of a noble soul, and move on without shedding a tear.  I am a work in progress and aspire to be strong enough one day in self belief and skilled enough at mastering preferences over expectations to be able to achieve this.  In the meantime I will leave you with these Word Vitamins penned by Eliza Tabor that I need to read today that might also be helpful for you one day to remember when you are faced with the challenge of digesting disappointment.

"Disappointment to a noble soul is what cold water is to burning metal; it strengthens tempers, intensifies, but never destroys it".