That feeling of rejection. The worst right? The stab in the gut. That feeling of utter uselessness. Kind of feels like the world might be crumbling down on you?
I feel you. I see you.
I’ve had my fair share of what I thought was rejection. In fact, I reckon I spent much of my teens and 20s being perpetually ‘rejected’ by people I had momentarily fallen in lust with, and then there were all the other pseudo rejections like not being asked to be bridesmaid for people, not being invited to certain things, not getting that promotion or feeling not ‘chosen’ in some sense.
Anyway, I feel like I’ve had a fair amount of experience with this one so feel as if I have some authority in talking about it.
The thing I’ve learnt over the years is that, however painful it may be, rejection is actually a blessing. It’s a blessing because that pain that you feel shows you something you deeply believe to be true about yourself and probably are not entirely aware of.
Lost you?
Ok so the thing with rejection is that it’s a thought pattern. A situation happens and we think ‘I’ve been rejected’. We could equally quite fairly think ‘Thank god I don’t have to hang out with this person’ or ‘What a relief, I don’t have to organise a hen do’ but we choose to think ‘I’ve been rejected’. Odd, right? Why are we choosing to think something that feels so inherently awful rather than thinking something that would make us feel marginally better?
This is where the magic lies.
The thing about thoughts is that we tend to repeat them on a loop. It’s easier for the mind to keep repeating the same thoughts over and over again than to think new ones so if we have a thought like ‘I’ve been rejected’, chances are… we’ll think it about a lot of things. Regardless of whether or not it’s accurate. Annoying, right?
These thought patterns usually come from some event that happened way back when, when our brains were way more malleable than they are as adults. Because our brains are super malleable back then, it’s easier for these thoughts to become engrained and for us to keep on practising them. ALL. THE. TIME. until they just repeat on a loop like that really annoying Sophie Ellis-Bextor song. A thought practiced over and over again becomes a belief that we hold about ourselves. So, if we think ‘I’ve been rejected’ over and over again, we start to believe that we are ‘reject-able’. Bleurgh!
The even more annoying thing about this, is that each time we think ‘I’ve been rejected’ (likely relatively often and probably at things that aren’t really rejection), our body gives us the same old emotional response to whatever the event was that happened way back when when we first started thinking ‘I’ve been rejected’.
What this means is that we can feel full on, hell a painful, child like OUCH at something which, in our adult minds, seems kind of minor. There is this weird split between feeling so much pain but at the same time thinking ‘stop being stupid, why are you feeling like this, it wasn’t a big deal’. Which then just makes the whole thing worse, right?
Ok, so how do we deal with the pain of it all? How do we cope when we feel like we keep getting rejected and keep feeling rubbish about it?
It might sound weird, it might sound like it won’t work but I can promise you that it does. In recognising that our emotional responses are very very rarely linked to what is actually happening in the present and are more likely than not rooted in some old thing that happened ages ago, we can start to become less reactive and less likely to ruminate because we are able to soothe the part of ourselves that is still kind of hurting from that situation years ago.
It works.
I promise.
I do this.
It helps.
Any questions, let me know.
L x
You have probably tried to think your way out of it.
Whatever it is for you, the anxiety that arrives on Sunday evenings like an uninvited guest, the relationship pattern you can trace all the way back to childhood but somehow keep repeating anyway or the low hum of something missing that no promotion, no holiday, no amount of self-improvement has ever quite reached.
You are smart, you are self-aware and you have probably read the books, done the therapy, listened to the podcasts - you understand your patterns, you can explain them to someone else over a glass of wine with impressive clarity.
And yet, nothing has actually shifted.
You are doing so well.
Genuinely. By every external measure, your life is a success, the career, the flat, the social life, the holidays. The ability to hold a room, meet a deadline, handle a crisis with the particular calm that comes from having handled many crises before.
From the outside, you are completely fine.
From the inside, there is a question you keep almost asking and then putting back in the drawer.
Is this it?
Everything felt infused with irritation. I was doing all the things for everyone else that I thought I should be doing. I was doing all the acts of service. I was, technically, loving those people. And yet. It felt like every act I did, rather than being infused with love, was infused with a shards of glass shooting out of every plate I stacked.
It was a Thursday back in February 2018. The rain hadn’t stopped for months and London was right in the depths of what felt like the longest winter we’d ever had. The dark, damp days had started to getting to me so I’d taken refuge in a hot yoga class to warm up. The scent of palo santo blended with the sweat of 50 people pervaded the room. It was bonus day at work. They’d told us it had been a bad year and not to expect much. I peaked into the envelope, hopeful, as soon as they slid it across the table: £130k. But there I lay, in savasana, with hot, salty tears streaming down my face: I’d never felt emptier.