Essay acceptance*

Earlier this month I saw on socials that a literary journal was seeking mental health essays. For a second I hesitated. Because I thought ''Cierra...what if you say too much? What if no one can actually relate to anything that you're going to say and you end up looking broken or damaged?'' I fought myself alittle bit and wondered aloud if maybe revisiting thess things was the right thing to do. And then I doubted myself and realized that the doubt was only pushing me towards writing it.

And so I began writing. I isolated myself in my ''studio'' and typed on a screen until I felt pings and pangs of old wounds wash over me again. I stopped, took breaks and went back to the screen, knowing that I had to write this. That I had to get it out so that I could somehow move on. 

A brief aside: I have been looking into the idea of ''self love'' and ''self care'' lately. When I think about those words I get alittle upset because it's so foreign to me but so necessary to learn. When you become single by choice and begin to consider all the ways in which you've sought validation or accepted codependency through relationships, you come to grips with the fact that only you can heal what is inside of you that feels broken. Everything else is just noise. You have to see yourself as you are and stop trying to fix everyone else and be their crutch or their rock through self-sacrifice and focus on yourself for once. 

Me, looking for ''self love'' and trying to figure out WTF ''self care'' is. 

But back to the essay: For alittle over two weeks, give or take, I drafted, redrafted and sat with the heaviness that often accompanies my writing. When I write I cannot allow myself to be anything but raw and sincere. Otherwise, there is no point. My words must mean something and my words must be my own. 

With this essay, I wanted a title that fit what it contained. I wanted to write an essay from my depths. So I went all in. As a middleschooler, I would often come home and stay in my room, alone writing poetry or articles/essays for my own amusement about things that interested me. During that time, I had expressed my desire to my mother that I wanted to be a journalist. When I wasn't writing I was creating art and when I wasn't creating art, I was reading. 

Last night, I finally completed my essay. It was around 1,070 words. I wasn't sure if it would be accepted because you never know and I was definitely fully prepared to wait a month or two for a reply. This morning I checked my inbox and saw a reply. They want to publish me! I'd like to keep my title private until it's published but am so grateful to be accepted. Thank you so much, Mary. What an amazingly warm surprise.

acceptance email*