I was hoping to have some really great news to share with you today.
We’ve spent the last week exchanging emails and phone calls with producers for a daytime talk show, producers who were interested in having us bring the RV out to New York City so that we could tell our story on national TV. It would have been so cool. Jared and I were both excited and had even told a few of our friends about the possibility of us making the detour.
At about 7:30 last night I got an unexpected call from one of the producers letting us know that the idea was scrapped. Thanks, but no thanks, maybe we’ll be in touch another time.
I felt deflated. No, more like popped with a sharp pin. Anticipation and excitement disappeared in an instant, leaving a vague sense that I had imagined all of the phone calls.
More than disappointed, I felt stupid.
The familiar tape began to spin, the one that always kicks in when things don’t work out quite as well as I’d hoped.
“Who do you think you are? You’re so stupid to have had such ridiculous fantasies. You’re naive and immature to think anything so good could happen so easily.”
I was embarrassed. I was ashamed. And I was shocked to see the intensity of my own emotions.
It is not foolish to get my hopes up when there is every reason to believe that those hopes might be realized. It is not stupid to think I have a story worth telling. It is not naive or immature to think that extraordinary things could happen in my life; I have taken some extraordinary risks to make room for these types of opportunities.
Who do I think I am?
I think I am someone wise and brave enough to choose optimisim, damn it.
And I’m done giving myself crap for that.