On my morning rambles, I’ve been thinking quite a bit about the nature of rejection—trying to dissect the complexities behind it—to figure out why the fear of being rejected prevents so many of us from ever taking even a teeny, tiny first step in the direction of “that thing” we want.
There is—of course—an element of “disappointment avoidance” in the rejection equation. No one in their right mind looks forward to disappointment—especially when it comes to something you really want, and particularly, when that something is “that thing” you’ve convinced yourself, you can’t live without.
But I think it runs much deeper than that. With all this pondering I’ve been doing, I’ve concluded that rejection—and more specifically, the fear of being rejected—is a very powerful force. And what gives rejection its power is its extraordinary ability to trigger old humiliations and wounds.
Shortly after my 9th birthday, we relocated from Atlanta to a small town in Western Mass. Entering a new school at that age is never easy, but the fact that I was a chubby, buck-toothed, bespectacled child with a weird accent, made it even worse. And worse got elevated to a power of 10 when it came to picking teams in PE, because in addition to the aforementioned deficiencies, I had been educated by nuns back when they were still wearing those restrictive, head-to-toe habits. (Translation: They weren’t big on sports.) Neither was my very sedentary family. As a result, I was—and remain—one of the least coordinated humans in the history of the species. Fast forward this little tale I’m spinning, and you can imagine the horror I experienced when it came to being picked for a team. Unless there was someone in a full body cast, I was inevitably the very last person chosen. And newsflash—being the last person picked means no one actually chose you—they got stuck with you.
On some level, no matter how much evidence my legal counsel gathers to the contrary, I will always be that odd little girl, the one whose “otherness” made her believe she’d never measure up. Which means that every time I put myself out there—and every time my ask is met with a no—that rejection is going to act as a validation stamp on that little girl’s belief.
Now I need to stop right here and acknowledge that in the scheme of things, whatever psychological battles I’ve had to fight are minor when compared to the burdens of those who’ve really had it tough. And yet, those long-ago wounds, still manage to edge their way in.
So here’s what I’ve decided: Rather than go through all the self-denigrating reasons why “I really should be over it by now,” I’ve decided to embrace each and every one of those old scrapes and bruises, knowing that unless I do, they will continue to get in my way.
Which brings me to Rejection Resilience Tip #1:
For every rejection you get—every agent who says no, every investor who passes, every job that turns you down—log an example of when your persistence was rewarded with a yes. You might be surprised—and likely, pretty delighted—by what this practice reveals.
Ponder some more. The results are instructive and enlightening! Thank you!