You Don't Get Better at Rejection by Avoiding It

Yesterday I cried again. It was maybe the 3rd time I've cried since being laid off in February, not counting the time me and Eric decided to rewatch Inside Out for the 47th time…

It was genuinely a cry of frustration, one that needed to happen.

Really, there's no humble way for me to say this, but I have been facing this season with so much strength and gratitude. But once in a while, it's important to embrace the lows, too.

Does anyone remember when people started saying "two things can be true" more? Because I love it. And I wonder what took us so long to realize it.

I can not want this present time with my son to end AND want to enter the next chapter of my career.

I can anticipate the day I receive an offer and dread the day I have to wake up before Ari. I can be incredibly grateful for this season and still admit that some days I'm ready for it to be over.

Two things can be true. And I think the same thing applies to rejection.

We've officially reached the 8-month mark of the job search.

I'm calling it a job search from now on. "Unemployed" is officially retired. Job search sounds more journey-like.

The great news is I've gotten exceptionally good at getting rejected. I'll admit, the first 20 stung a bit, but by 130, I've been taking it on the chin like a champ.

And it's not just job searching. Maybe you're on the dating apps. Maybe you're pitching your business or brand. Maybe you're applying to schools or programs. Whatever your version is, if you're putting yourself out there, eventually you're going to hear no.

And I've realized you're only going to get really good at rejection by continuing to put yourself in situations where rejection is possible.

I don't mean that rejection stops hurting. I'm just learning how to bounce back from it faster.

Here are a few things that have been helping me.

Feel it.

I'm serious. Cry if you want to. I'm a Cancer, so I will almost always suggest crying. 

Or get angry if that's what you need. Be disappointed. Be frustrated. But we're going to process it accordingly. If it was an opportunity I was excited about, something I invested my time in, or something I genuinely wanted, I'm not going to pretend I don't care just because I think I should be able to handle it.

I let myself feel it.

But you're gonna need to hurry it up because you have maybe 20 minutes. We're about to get into the good stuff and you're not gonna wanna lose your momentum. ;)

Now it's time to jam.

I don't care what language it is or what year it's from, as long as it gets your hips and/or heart jumping. Keep a few timeless favorites on hand that you can always come back to. Make sure you have songs you can count on.

For me, this is less about distracting myself and more about feeling something again, just in a different way. We're either going to belt out a few notes or shake our ass. Preferably both.

Gratitude.

At this point, I'm usually feeling a little more inspired. I can start to hear my brain say, "It's not the end of the world," which is sweet, but honestly, that's not enough for me.

I want to actively notice everything I have to be grateful for. And absolutely nothing is too big or too small. My son. My daughter. A bed. Food in my fridge. A body that lets me move. A really good song. A funny text. A clean kitchen, if we're having an especially good day.

This is the workout before the workout. This is where I train my brain to notice, and keep noticing, even in the lows.

Because my world did not end just because one opportunity did.

Work.

Now I'm ready to do some heavy lifting. Literally, sometimes.

I remind myself of what's still in my control. For me, that's usually a workout. Maybe I'm walking the extra half mile. Maybe I'm lifting a little heavier. Maybe I'm doing a couple more reps.

It's not really about the workout. It's about physically demonstrating to myself that I am still capable of getting stronger.

There are still things in this life that no rejection can take from me. And if my body allows me to do it, I can do it.

So I will.

Reframe.

This might be one of the most underrated skills in life.

Let's say I interview somewhere and they reach back out to let me know I wasn't the right fit, or another candidate was a stronger fit. At first, my brain might immediately go, I did something wrong. I wasn't good enough. What did they see in the other person that they didn't see in me?

But I'm training myself to change the sentence.

Instead of, "I wasn't the right fit," I'm practicing, "It wasn't the right fit."

Maybe I wasn't what they were looking for. Maybe they weren't what I was looking for either. And honestly, I don't always need to know which one it was. I can trust that if it wasn't mine, it wasn't mine.

That doesn't mean I don't have room to grow. It doesn't mean I can't learn from the experience. It just means one person's decision about whether I'm right for an opportunity doesn't get to become a decision about my value.

Create.

This one is technically a bonus, but maybe it's the one that comes most naturally to me.

I create when I'm sad. I create when I'm happy. I create when I'm somewhere in between and I don't even know what I'm feeling yet.

And I've found it to be much more healing than simply consuming. Because when I'm constantly consuming other people's emotions, opinions, projections, lives, accomplishments, and highlight reels, I can lose track of what's happening inside my own.

Creating gives me somewhere to put it.

Sometimes it's a blog post. Sometimes it's a Reel. Sometimes it's a podcast idea sitting in my Notes app at 1 a.m. Sometimes it's just cooking dinner and putting on music.

It doesn't really matter. The point is that I'm making something instead of only taking something in. And maybe that's what I'm learning about rejection.

I'm not going to get rejected less. I'm just getting better at remembering that rejection is an event in my life, not the definition of it.

I can let it hurt. I can cry about it. I can dance about it. I can lift something heavy. I can be grateful for what is still here. I can decide what the experience means.

And then I can keep creating the life that's still happening around me.