The Sting of Rejection

I got a good friend who describes his depression as like he is wearing a concrete jacket. He says, he feels the comfort of his child’s arms around him in the morning and enjoys hearing the unprompted, “I love you, Daddy,” as his child gets ready for the day. He says, the tacos he orders for lunch from his favorite food truck, the ones with the perfect onions, taste delicious. He says, he runs errands, gains a sense of accomplishment as he checks off some of the many items on his to-do list, and smiles at friendly strangers. He just experiences all of it wearing a concrete jacket. It’s heavy, it’s constant, and he can’t remove it. He knows, compared to all the wrong that could be happening, that his day, his life, his world is good and he should feel lucky. But his every experience is weighted down and it’s a struggle to move.

I told him, “awesome metaphor.”

I got a very kind rejection letter early this morning. The longest I’ve ever received. The editor highlighted two elements of my story that they particularly enjoyed and wished me luck placing it elsewhere.

The problem with trying to read the universe as a text is, more often than not, the message you want isn’t the message you get, and no matter how thoughtful and kind, you end up feeling weighted down on all sides and struggling to move.

But what can you do but keep moving on?