I’m a Pick-Me Girl

I’ve watched way too many seasons of the Bachelor because I could truly, madly, deeply understand all those wounded women dressed up like Disney princesses and pageant beauties and prom queens, hoping they’d be chosen over all the others.

I’ve been a pick-me girl most of my life. My teenage daughters have explained that this girl seeks male validation and attention by changing her personality and preferences. For myself, I’d expand it from “male” to outside validation in general.

It’s cringe-y to write this, because it sounds so needy. Because it is so needy. Please like me. Please tell me I’m special. Please tell me I’m the only one. Please make me feel worthy.

I’m doing the same with writing. Every time I send out a sample or a pitch or an application, I wait for some editor to pick me.

I’ve stopped counting my rejections. I think that means I’m starting to put myself out there enough. Some of them hurt more than others. After coming back from vacation, I received rejections for two writing residencies I was excited about. I was sad, so I bought myself some flowers and a new mug to drink tea.