Maybe… maybe I’ll be the one he’ll stick with? Maybe I’ll meet his high standards? Maybe I’ll be good enough?

It started with tightness in my chest.

Then, it felt impossible for my lungs to swallow a full breath of air.

I couldn’t shake the feeling and couldn’t pinpoint what triggered this sudden sensation that could only be described as a panic attack.

I reviewed my day, desperately wanting to make sense of this seemingly arbitrary occurrence. The only thing I could isolate was a difficult client who emailed to say he was no longer interested in my graphic design services.

When I first read the email, I’d been relieved. This was a client who a different artist had referred on. The client told me it hadn’t been a “match”; later I found out my friend was the fifth (!) graphic artist he’d researched, interviewed, hired, and fired for this particular project.

So a part of me expected the ax to fall. When the inevitable message came, thanks so much, it’s not going to work out, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

But another part was invested. Because despite the client’s constant input, overall it seemed he had actually been pleased with the mock-ups I’d done for him. On some level, I’d been patting myself on the back: See, you have something others don’t.

Maybe… maybe I’ll be the one he’ll stick with? Maybe I’ll meet his high standards? Maybe I’ll be good enough?

The first reaction was shock. Despite all the signs pointing to this outcome, I genuinely felt surprised.

Then I felt flooded with relief. The worst had happened. The other shoe dropped. I was still breathing.