Stages

I recently submitted a final manuscript to my publisher, for publication next spring. My book is on performance anxiety, and it’s a heavily-researched deep dive into the physiology of anxiety–how and when it manifests, and how and why it presents in somatic symptoms. And, finally, what we can do to manage those symptoms.

I joked with my therapist that I didn’t expect there to be so many emotional stages in this process. But, akin to grief stages, I find myself working through several complex emotions in series. I was, of course, initially incredibly excited to have my manuscript finally (!) accepted by a publisher. Then, I was completely panic-stricken–what if everyone outside my little circle of early readers hated it? After some additional readers submitted positive feedback and I reread my work after several months, I breathed a sigh of relief and felt good again about my work. Then, as we neared submission deadlines, the panic returned–what if I had unintentionally plagiarized or used too much of another published work? I had moments of wanting to pull the plug completely on the entire project. Then, after the final read throughs and my professional editor’s comments, I felt again reassured.

After sending it off finally, I feel relieved but also very vulnerable. It’s largely autobiographical, and I share my experience with a lifelong eating disorder. While I don’t expect this to take off and become a best-seller, it is scary to put all of that out in the universe for anyone’s consumption. Until this point, I’ve gotten to choose with whom I share that information.

In large part, writing the manuscript was healing. I’m proud of all the work I’ve done to get to this point, and I’ve done exceptional amounts of research for this project. Just recently, I bought a couple newly released self-help books by authors I cited, to see whether I needed to update or change my information. I noted that I wasn’t as keen to read these books that I previously would have devoured–truth be told, I knew most of the information, and I didn’t need to see it in print again.

This is both a source of pride, and also terrifying. There’s not much more out there… there is no golden ticket waiting to be found. I know how to manage my ED and how to keep my emotions properly regulated. There’s no magic book or new thing for me to try. I just need to keep putting in the work, every. single. day.

Day 17.