On being rejected for things

My waiting period finally came to an end last week as I received the news that many moving parts hinged upon.

It was a rejection.

First, there were tears, but the disappointment was already on its way to meeting catharsis. All the research I’d done suggested that waiting can be more distressing than facing bad news—and in the moment it rang true.

Finally, I knew. What a relief to know!

Yet even with the relief, rejection has a particular sting.

In the tears, you feel like your child self again. There’s a sharpness. The pain of being left out, not chosen or behind the rest flashes forward, and your critical inner monologue seizes its moment. You’re not good enough. Why do you bother? You’ll never get what you want.

Is this what we are afraid of? Is this what sometimes stops us from trying? Giving our own worst critic the centre stage if we are rejected?

There have been times I’ve been afraid of this harsh voice, but now I see my inner critic is simply trying to protect me (or maybe prevent me from throwing a tantrum and writing something like Bernard Black’s reply to the nasty, niminy-piminy note!)

With practice, you become better at telling this voice to shush. You begin to really understand that rejection isn’t personal. It’s not that you’re not good enough, it’s just not a match.

 
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