Throughout the years, I’ve heard, unbelievably, that several writers appreciate rejection letters. Some of these individuals wall-paper their walls with these correspondences. Others pin the, “we regret to inform you’s” to their bulletin boards as reminders to Keep on Truckin.’
These optimistic, joyful writers will utter things like, “bring it on, rejection builds character, it’s good for the soul, rejection helps me evolve, did you know The Help was rejected 60 times?”
Well, to be completely honest, I’m not one of those writers or people. I open up these god-forbidden letters with shaking hands and when I take in the, we regret that we are unable to use the enclosed material, I scream, “FUUUUUCK!”
Afterwards, I call some of my girlfriends, well, one girlfriend in particular, to have a little pity party.
Sure, intellectually, I know rejection will unquestionably help you grow, learn, thrive, nurture your weakest areas, and help you find out who you really are. Seriously, I know all this, but my heart doesn’t. I also know it hurts like hell when one white envelope after another arrives in your mailbox like unwanted, inked, ugly strangers, saying– “thank you for giving us the opportunity to…”
Why not save your time and just text me something like- “You Suck. You’re a loser. You’re not good enough, bitch. You aint no Elizabeth Gilbert.”
Yeah, why not save yourself an envelope, a stamp, some ink, your stupid truth?
I’ll be honest, I’ve never been good with any kinds of rejection, and I’m not just talking about Women’s Home Journal or Redbook.
I’m talking about Janet Olson, whom was continually first chair in 8th grade band. Not only was she a supreme trumpet player, but she had long brown hair like Veronica out of that Archie comic book, and her eyes were like Bambi; large enough to swim in. All of the girls wanted to be her and all of the boys wanted her as their girlfriend. Even Mr. Schultz, the band teacher, thought she was extraordinary, which annoyed me significantly.
She never looked in my direction. And when I tried to talk to her after a concert one Saturday night, she smiled cruelly and said, “you are weird.”
In any case, I saw her on Facebook and thought, ‘I’m going to friend her.’ I mean, we are all grown up now, right? We have moved on from superficiality and shit, so I asked her to be my friend. And waited.
She denied me.
So, I guess, I had changed, but she did not.
Anyway, being denied and discarded does not make me yell out– “Hip, Hip, Hooray!”
It hurts. It makes my insides ache. It’s painful.
Why should I try to make you feel better about this reality?
Okay, let me start again.
Rejection sucks, but it Does Not need to destroy you. If anything, it causes you to move forward with everything you’ve got, every breath you have left. It makes you hear your heart beating outside your body as if to say, “I’m Alive!”
It makes you not waste one more moment of the rest of your life.
—Dear, reader, what kinds of rejection have you had in your lifetime? Do you experience it like I do?!
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