How to Deal with Rejection

Hi everyone and welcome to another episode of Hannah Reads About Things. So today I'm gonna read an article that I published on psychologytoday.com on June 23rd, 2019 called Facing Rejection. Once again, I am in my office in my private practice building in Hamden, aka Baltimore, Maryland. There's a lot of essential oils right now diffusing right over the screen and I do not have my microphone or pretty ring light, but We'll make do. So, Facing Rejection. It isn't easy. It's seldom graceful, but it's doable. The lessons of rejection can be delivered in a myriad of forms: a relationship ending, a school denying your application, a job opportunity that was given to someone else, a conversation that ends abruptly, an omission of a compliment, a lack of emotional availability, and so many more. Raise your hand if you've ever experienced any of those things. Okay. But the common thread that seems to permeate through every experience of rejection is almost impossible to ignore: the deterioration of self-worth. That's the most dangerous part about the experience of rejection. We internalize it. We make it about us. We tell ourselves these narratives about how we aren't good enough, how we aren't worthy. But that's simply not true. We are always worthy and we are always enough. Maybe the relationship itself wasn't organic. Maybe it's not meeting both of your needs, but that doesn't mean that you are inherently flawed. A few months ago— this was actually like almost a year ago now— I awoke on the beautiful island of Kauai. What? I didn't just wake up in Hawaii. I was there and I woke up. Okay. I was elated to have a break from my busy yet fulfilling life. My only responsibility was to put on enough sunscreen to prevent my very fair skin from burning in the sweltering heat. It was there that I received a very anticipated email from Loyola University, the institution from which I was waiting to hear about my doctoral program admission status. I inhaled, and instead of praying or asking the universe for an acceptance letter, I intuitively set an intention to be at peace with whatever decision was made. I have to say, between you and I, watcher of said video, I did expect to get in. Um, I think it's easy for me to say things like, oh yeah, I'm probably not gonna get in, or oh yeah, and that kind of saves face. But the reality is I was expecting to get in. I was like, I've got at least 5 years of work experience clinically, like, that's it, that's all. Um, this was my— the first action that I now deem as incredibly significant and relevant to my reaction. And so the first action was pausing, breathing, and just setting an intention to essentially radically accept whatever the decision is, even if I had the expectation to get in. It wasn't like, okay, universe, please let me get in, like No! I opened the email, fingers shaking subtly. The admission committee has carefully reviewed your application for admission to the graduate program in PsyD Clinical at Loyola University Maryland. After much consideration, I regret to inform you that we are not able to offer you admission. I recognize this message may come as a disappointment to you. We appreciate your interest in graduate studies at Loyola University Maryland, and I wish you the best as you pursue your education goals. Educational goals. My heart dropped. My finger hovered above the screen. Without missing a beat, I took a breath, acknowledged a potential slew of self-defeating thoughts slowly entering my psyche, including, what am I doing with my life, I'm a failure, etc., etc., and mentally closed the door on them. Instead of catering to the insidious shame narratives that can so easily penetrate my thoughts, I chose to listen to a deeply rooted gut feeling so subtle that I easily could have missed it. I'm going to be okay. Maybe it isn't the right time. Maybe the program isn't for me. In hindsight, I really only applied for a doctorate program because I felt like that's what I should do. Um, also like, when in doubt about career paths, like, stay in school. I mean, honestly, this was before I decided to leave my job and go into private practice, and you know, that was scary. And it was like, well, if I'm in a doctorate program, that's going to be another 5 to 7 years. Okay, that was the second and potentially most important action. We have a choice in how we respond. We need not react to every thought or emotion that comes up. We can simply notice them. No reaction needed, no action taken, just observe what's going on. So I noticed those shame narratives, um, you know, I am a failure, I am inadequate, I'm not good enough, how did I think I was going to get in, that's crazy, etc. I noticed those thoughts because all those thoughts came up and instead chose to close the door on them. Like, okay, shame, I see you, but I'm not going to I exhaled automatically proud of my chosen response of radical acceptance and reached out to a few of my close friends to let them know about the decision. That feeling of being proud of myself and my response completely eclipsed any residual feelings of failure or rejection. If you had told me a year ago, maybe even a few months ago, that I would respond so sanely and healthily to rejection, I wouldn't have believed you, especially in a relationship sense. 4 years ago— 5 now— the rejection I experienced after a breakup was palpable. It was the summer of 2015, so 4 and a half, the summer that I was in so much pain I didn't know how else to handle my emotions aside from writing, which set me on this path. That pain brought me to a place of grounding. It brought me to my writing, to my outlet, to my truth. But it wasn't easy. The first article I ever wrote was called Why I'm Giving Up Intentions, which is linked in the article. It's ironic to look back and read it now, as intention setting is such an integral part of my daily practice, but it was the first time I had ever written something, decided to submit it to a mindfulness website , and actually get published. In that article, I wrote: The dull throb of rejection is still ever-present in the darkest corners of my heart. I've tried to make it disappear with therapy, spirituality, and deep breathing. With an overcompensating positive attitude towards the world. Which is, which is inauthentic. But what I've come to accept after reading hundreds of articles, daily meditations, and wisdom from those who have dealt with pain and loss and grief is that there isn't an escape that works. Escapes exist— substance abuse, new relationships, seeking validation through male friends— but an escape isn't what I want, and it isn't what I need down on a core level. I need to feel it. I'm not sure if it's a human tendency to want to run from pain, to avoid it at any cost, Or if it's the characteristic of my alcoholism, a reflexive habit to do anything and everything not to feel pain. But here I am, 4 years into my sobriety— now it's over 8— a broken relationship and a painful rebound later. But something in me has shifted. I no longer want to escape from the pain. Something has finally clicked in the confines of my heart, and I know that the only way through the pain is exactly that, through it. So I turn towards the pain. I sit with the feelings, both good and bad, that wash over me like the waves of the Atlantic that I've watched these last few weeks abounding the beach in Ocean City, Maryland. Surrounded by hundreds of people, most of whom are drunk and loving life to the extent that they are capable of. That's judgmental. And I am alone. I am alone and I'm completely and utterly whole. In another article I word vomited in November of 2015, still reeling from this breakup, I wrote, I can't eat but I'm starving. I can't tell whether it's a potential bout of depression slowly making its way way into my psyche, or the subtle but unwavering dull throb of emptiness as a result of a string of failed relationships. But I guess using the word failed for my relationships doesn't do them justice. I know they all serve a purpose. I know they all come together to make me who I am today and who I will be tomorrow. But it continues to amaze me how pervasive the ever-constant seeking and manufacturing of relationships is in society today. Almost every song I hear on the radio is about love or heartache. Almost every TV commercial embodies the picture-perfect and almost unrealistic expectation of what a marriage and relationship should look like. Day to day, I ask myself and I'm asked by others what my love life is like, and I've never thought about answering it about how I'm loving myself today. So here's my take on facing rejection. Back to present day. It isn't easy. It's seldom graceful, but it's necessary and it is absolutely doable. One of the key practices I've learned throughout my experience with rejection is that I almost always will take responsibility and blame. Myself. It's easier to think I am not good enough than it is to deal with the reality that maybe the relationship simply doesn't mesh and it wasn't organic and it wasn't right. Maybe going into a 5-year doctoral program, which I impulsively applied to one day just to see if I can get in, wasn't meant for me. Maybe I'm not supposed to be a psychologist. Maybe by sticking to my incredible job right now, I can actually find the time to write and fuel my fire for writing, public speaking, which I've done, and training. Who knows? I do have a training coming up this Wednesday for staff at a treatment center. Like, what? Who knows? But here's what I do know: when it comes to relationships, I don't want to be with someone unless they 110% want to be with me. I never thought that I was capable of having high standards in relationships, but as humans, we are more capable of growth and change than we think we are. Humans are not hardwired to be a certain way for their entire lives. You aren't bad at dealing with rejection, you just haven't grown some specific muscles that target resilience and self-worth. Today, even when I do get rejected, which I do and I will continue to, I am still able to stay grounded. How? Simple. When the rejection happens, and it's not an if, it's when, no matter in what context, pause, breathe, pray if that's your thing, acknowledge your strengths, try to look at the situation as objectively as you can. Acknowledge the feelings of ego deflation and sadness. Feel the pain and lean into that pain. Hell, write about that pain and pull on your strengths. I could easily have jumped down the rabbit hole of, "I just got rejected from the first doctoral program I applied to, so obviously I'm incompetent, going nowhere in life, a failure, a reject, and a joke." But you know as much as I do, that is simply not true. My thoughts and feelings are not always based in reality. Actually, they're often not. So look at your rejection for what it is. Maybe, just maybe, you were able to dodge a bullet. Maybe your relationship would have been a dumpster fire later on. I can't believe I said dumpster fire. Maybe that school you wanted to get into would have prohibited you from an opportunity that you wouldn't have stumbled across if you were too busy working on a degree that you didn't necessarily want. Maybe, just maybe, we don't have all the answers, and things always work out in the end. And if they aren't working out, it's not the end. At least that's how I feel, and it works pretty well for me. Rejection, I'm not scared of you. Because if I'm not rejecting myself, then nothing can truly reject me. I know that I'm enough today. I know my worth today. And I'll be damned if anyone or anything can take that from me. And if you're still thinking, "But I'm not okay, I'm still in pain, and I don't know if I can face rejection," just remember: it isn't easy, it's seldom graceful, but it's necessary, and it's absolutely doable.